


Lights Up

by AHardLifee, writeyourownlifestory



Series: Loser/Lover: Deluxe Edition [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentioned Sonia Kaspbrak, Punk Rock, Rock Star Eddie Kaspbrak, Sexual Content, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Writer Richie Tozier, magazine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 55,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21561952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHardLifee/pseuds/AHardLifee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourownlifestory/pseuds/writeyourownlifestory
Summary: Puff piece writer Richie Tozier is given the chance of a lifetime to interview his celebrity crush: Dr. K, the lead singer of punk rock band, Trashmouth. Dr. K is about to release his first solo album and Richie wants to get all the dirty details. But all is not what it appears to be and the two realize they know each other from a different time, in a different place, when they were both very different people.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Loser/Lover: Deluxe Edition [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665226
Comments: 97
Kudos: 237





	1. Cruel To Be Kind - Nick Lowe

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy this beginning of a very wild ride.

**_Oh I can't take another heartache_ **  
**_Though you say you're my friend, I'm at my wit's end_ **  
**_You say your love is bonafide, but that don't coincide_ **  
**_With the things that you do_ **  
**_And when I ask you to be nice, you say_ **

**_You've gotta be cruel to be kind, in the right measure_ **  
**_Cruel to be kind, it's a very good sign_ **  
**_Cruel to be kind, means that I love you, baby_ **  
**_(You've gotta be cruel)_ **  
**_You gotta be cruel to be kind_ **

Richie Tozier didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. 

That wasn’t a very unique statement but Richie wasn’t a very unique person. An average guy who was as blind as a bat, born in bumblefuck nowhere and eventually making it out of there and into the big wild city, making a living working at a big-name magazine. 

Okay, the last part was pretty impressive, but he didn’t actually work very hard for that job. 

He used to dream of writing comedy. Of telling jokes or writing for amazing shows like Saturday Night Live or something on Comedy Central. He wanted to be a comedian. To make people laugh. Sure, he is seen as the funny guy around the watering tank, but thats just because the rest of the people he worked with were a bunch of yuppies with impressive college degrees and no real personalities. They’re no better than the robots who work for Buzzfeed. 

They had paperback covers and an app for people who didn’t want to go to the store to buy an actual copy. They had their own YouTube channel that hit millions of hits thanks to interviews and other shit that Richie took part in. 

When Bill decided he wanted to make this into a real thing, he wanted it to make some sense. It wasn’t some balls to the ball insanity mag that people read for juicy gossip. It was real. The people who subscribed were real and the people featured in it were real. 

Richie’s writing, not so much. 

He mostly did puff pieces. Little things that didn’t take a lot of effort but were mostly filler in between the larger stories. It was something Bill had done for them after the magazine got big. You see, he and Bill had been buddies in college. Both young and naive about the world. Neither really knew what they wanted, but they had dreams and that was all that mattered back then.

It was Bill that had the real talent with writing and despite publishers being interested, he never took into account just how much time, effort, and money went into getting a book published. Richie, always believing in his best friend, decided to give him all the cash he had saved up for spring break so he would make the first move on getting his novel out.

He didn’t mind much as he found that he could eat, sleep, and drink on the couch the same way he could out on the beach. 

That novel ended up being a best seller and skyrocketed Bill’s career. Bill always remembered that, so when his second and third books became such a thrill, he decided to take the chance and create a magazine and brought Richie along for the ride. 

It was easy work and he made good money for doing very little, but he found that was the main cause of his quarter-life crisis. He wanted so much more than he had been given that Richie was actually feeling guilty for wanting more. 

He had done stand up in the city and even took an improv class, but nothing seemed to stick to him. Now he was over thirty and found himself in a rut. He lived alone in a small apartment filled with things he didn’t need but purchased because he thought they would bring out a sense of excitement.

He was single, though that was a whole nother issue as it took Richie an embarrassingly long time to come to terms with his own sexuality. Growing up in a small town where people were cruel and the world didn’t understand left marks on an impressionable kid. It wasn’t until he was halfway through college that he did anything with a guy and well-passed gradation that he realized that it was more than okay to be gay, it was normal. 

So yeah, he was open and fine with it, but still lonely as hell. He had been with people in the past, but he found that he mostly just shut himself off from the world. He wasn’t happy about anything anymore and it seemed the only thing that got him by was that ending it all would have proved his teenage bullies right; that he was better off dead.

And if there was anything Richie wanted to live for, it was spite. 

And also music. 

Despite not being musically inclined at all, Richie loved music with all his heart. He spent a good portion of his time listening to records as a kid. He used to go around carrying a walkman and CD player and Zune throughout his life. He paid for the mom's gigs on his phone because he needed to have all his favorite songs ready to blast at the tap of a finger.

While they already had a guy that wrote specifically about music for the magazine, he had always been able to sweet talk Bill into allowing him to have a few moments to shine and write something about some artist. Those were the pieces that really mattered to him. The ones that gave Richie the chance to dive deep into the thing he loved.

Sure, he had written a whole expose on Street Fighter and perhaps he did make a big deal out of the Star Wars franchise, but it was the moments when Richie could reel back and listen before writing that got him going. 

They rarely did full-length articles on performers as the magazine was something of a clusterfuck of topics. Bill Denbroughnever wanted to settle on just one thing. Paper Boat was more than just one specific topic. It was everything and they would be damned if they ever settled on its something. 

But of course, now and then something would come along and the whole team would be scrambling to put together a magazine dedicated to that one specific person. It wasn’t always a celebrity. Bill meant what he said when he wanted to keep the magazine aimed at the everyday people. 

Their biggest seller to date had been when they put out issues all about Ben Hanscom the architect. Richie had no idea why anybody would want to read about the guy other than to enjoy the pictures that were taken of him, but low and behold, the world wanted to know. 

As it turned out, Ben was a decent human being who just wanted to make the world a better place and he also happened to be extremely hot while doing it. Who knew that was possible! 

The physical copies sold out everywhere and the website crashed thanks to all the promotions they did on it. Like, what the actual fuck? 

Bill was that good at what he did and it also helped that he was writing his books on the side. He had people from all over coming through wanting to see what they could do and it only proved to be more impressive as time went on. 

Now the magazine needed something new, something fresh and it seemed Bill had it all planned out. 

“Here at Paper Boat, we don’t choose a good looking celebrity because we want to make money. You know, I’m not going to call up Jennifer Aniston and ask her to do me a favor -- I could, but I won’t -- because that isn’t what we do here.” Bill explained as they went over the board meeting for the next issue. “The people featured on our cover are interesting. People who want to bring the world together and make a change. Or maybe they’re just batshit insane and look good while doing it. Who knows.” 

A small array of laughter came over the place. Richie leaned back in his chair, half paying attention. He knew how these things went. Bill made a big, exciting speech before revealing who or what they’d be focusing on. The assignments would be passed around and Richie would be given something soft and fun.

He got the dumb shit that got the people who didn’t want to read involved. Sometimes he’d do interviews while vlogging. They’d try food they never tried before or do something stupid. One of the most interesting had been when he got assigned to interview Kristen Wiig while bobbing for apples. Certainly interesting and the flow to the website was wonderful. 

Richie was the writer they went to when they wanted it to seem kitsch and gimmicky. Enough for it to garner actual attention, but nothing worth anybody's time. 

He tossed his stress ball up in the air, catching it as it followed the natural path and came back down. He got bored easily as meetings like this and he waited for Bill to just get on with it and assign everybody their respected jobs. 

Bill hit a button on his computer, revealing a picture that Richie was all too familiar with. It was of a punk rock band that he had followed since he graduated from college. Trashmouth was one of the greatest bands that had ever come into Richie’s life. They were like if Queen and the Ramones were put together, had a baby, and then that baby had a baby with Green Day: that weirdly insane combination would be Trashmouth. 

There were five members, but the main focus was and always had been the lead singer and guitarist Dr. K. Nobody knew why he went by that nor did he ever give an answer. Richie had googled him a couple of times, wanting to find out more, but the guy was a fucking mystery. It was like he just appeared on the scene, completely out of his mind with cut off sleeves and steller vocals. 

It was safe to say Richie had a big gay crush on Dr. K. 

And that was fine because Dr. K was just as gay. 

He had never been seen with anybody, always choosing to keep his personal life private, but his songs were obvious enough even if most of them seemed pretty genderless. He had done one interview where the person asking the questions kept using the term ‘she’ or ‘her’ until finally, the guy replied that he writes songs about guys.

That took the world by fucking storm and Richie Tozier had never been the same. 

“Some of you may be familiar with Trashmouth. Multiple Grammy noms and wins. Always in the top 40 listings despite repeatedly being told that punk rock was dead.” 

“Please tell me we’re going to be featuring the band,” Mike, the music specialist for the magazine, piped up eagerly. 

“I can’t because we won’t,” Bill replied. “Our focus is on him.” Bill hit another button and a solo picture of Dr. K popped up. 

Richie’s mouth was watering and he sat up straight. He had the same picture in a small poster in his apartment. It was set up alongside some other pictures in what he called his “Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Wall” because he was just that big of a fan. He looked at it often, always finding himself thankful for all the music that had been created and got him through some pretty dark days as a kid. 

Did it also help that Dr. K was incredibly attractive and gave Richie a little bit of encouragement just by looking so good? Yes, yes it did. 

“It seems Dr. K will be going off on his own. My sources tell me he’ll be putting out a solo album by the end of the year and I want to know everything about it. Mikey, that’s your job. Speak to whoever you have to to find out what is going to be on that album. Audra, speak to the rest of the band, find out how they feel about the ending of an era. Georgie, get your camera ready because we’re doing a photo shoot with him in three days.”

“Who is doing the main expose?” Greta asked, popping her gum as she spoke. 

Bill smirked, turning back to his computer. “I’ll pick someone later. For now, you’re all dismissed.” 

The group got up from their chairs and left Bill’s office. All except for Richie, who was too fucking flabbergasted to do a damn thing. As Bill began to head out, he finally scrambled to his feet to follow him. His long legs led him there quickly, though he mostly sidestepped around his coworkers to finally reach their boss. 

“Bill! Big Bill! Wait up.” He called, following him to the elevator. 

“What's up, Rich? I’m about to head out for lunch.” Bill said, turning to face him. “You hungry? We could check out that new sandwich place that opened across the way. 

“Oh, no. I’m time. Stuffed.” Richie patted his stomach lamely, offering a large smile to his friend and boss. “Hey! So, just checking in to see about that latest pitch.” 

“Oh right,” Bill paused, hitting the elevator button. “You were a fan of that band, right? Oof. Sorry about the breakup buddy. Haven’t you seen them like six times?” 

“It’s sixteen, but that’s not important right now.” Richie corrected. “Bill. Buddy. You have to listen to me.” 

“You got it, Rich.” 

“I know you only trust me with the puff pieces because I’m not as talented as Mike or even Greta, but I need you to trust me on this.” 

“You can do the expose, Rich.” 

“I have gotten better over time and I swear, if you just give me the chance, I promise. I won’t do a single embarrassing voice or anything to get Paper Boat blacklisted.” 

“I’m sure you’ll embarrass yourself in one way or another, but that’s your issue. You have two days.” 

“Until what?” 

“Until your interview with Dr. K,” Bill said, stepping into the elevator as the doors opened. “If you’d stopped rambling you would have heard me tell you that you’re going to be the one doing the expose. You’ll be meeting him in two days, so you better come up with some good questions.” 

“Holy shit,” Richie muttered. 

“Holy shit, indeed Tozier,” Bill smirked. “I know you’ve been in some sort of funk lately, so I hope that this will shake you up a bit. Better keep your fanboy boner under control.” Bill warned, smiling as the elevator doors closed between them.

Whether Richie realized it or not, Bill believed in him and his writing ability. He may not have the raw talent like himself, but he knew what Richie was capable of. He has a way with people that allowed them to loosen up and relax and nothing was better for a good interview than someone comfortable with the person asking the questions. 

Bill couldn’t think of a single person who would be better for this specific project and having Richie be an uber-fan of the artist was just a bonus. If Richie made an ass of himself, that would be his problem, not the magazines. 

Richie stood there, not knowing what to do next. He looked to his watch, realizing he had less than 72 hours to come up with a buttload of questions for his idol. He ran back to his cubby to brainstorm.


	2. So Hot You're Hurting My Feelings - Caroline Polachek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. K is ready to see Richie now...

**_I get a little lonely_ **   
**_Get a little more close to me_ **   
**_You're the only one who knows me, babe_ **   
**_So hot, you're hurtin' my feelings (woo)_ **   
**_Can't deal_ **

Richie had very little idea what he was supposed to be doing. 

Okay, correction, he had a decent idea. It was a simple interview. Ask a couple of questions, hopefully, get a couple of answers. It wasn’t being filmed nor were they doing something dumb to pass the time. Just a simple sit down with a punk rock legend in the making. 

Richie had written down almost a hundred questions, half of which he wanted to scrape because they just seemed so generic and boring. This might have been just a stereotypical interview but the person of interest was anything but typical. 

Dr. K had changed things for the better in the music industry. He didn’t stick to social norms, but he also didn’t jam his uniqueness down your throat. If you wanted to see him, you would see him. If you didn’t want to pay him any mind, that was fine too. Dr. K had said on more than one occasion that he wasn’t there to entertain the small minds of the world. The people who would see him would see him and those who heard him would listen. 

Richie listened very clearly. Almost nightly. He wasn’t lying when he told Bill he had seen them sixteen times in the past eight years. From small dingy bars deep in the city to the biggest venues the state had to offer. Richie had been there for it all, cheering on this amazing band and buying up their merch to boot. 

Richie thought about wearing one of their shirts, but he didn’t want to come on too strong. He stuck with his regular business attire, making sure that nothing was too wrinkled or had a strange mess to it. 

He thought about doing something with his hair until he finally snapped himself out of this little fantasy he had going on inside his head. This wasn’t a blind date; wasn’t some matchmaking at the hands of Bill. This was a serious business and Richie had to take it seriously. 

Richie was gangly, with wavy hair and thick glasses. Sure, some guys found him to be cute, but he gave credit to his charming personality. He put on a mask to get by but in reality, he was just a lonely guy who didn’t know where he belonged.

So when the day came, he told himself just to relax because nothing would come from this. There wasn’t going to be a magical spark between the two. He wasn’t going to let go of his career and start touring with Dr. K as his personal assistant slash roadie slash groupie. 

He was just a guy interviewing for his place of work and Richie reminded himself that repeatedly as he arrived at the location Bill gave him. Red Balloon records were serious business that only took on the best of the best. Richie gave his name and flashed the pass that he always kept on him from Paper Boats just to show he was legit. 

He was sent up automatically and was practically buzzing in the elevator up. When he arrived at the top, a red-headed woman greeted him, offering a polite smile as they walked through the hall. She was dressed smartly in a suit of her own, high up against her neck and tight at the waist. She offered a quick handshake before they got moving.

“Beverly Marsh. You’re a little early, but that’s all right. K likes punctual people.” She revealed. 

“Figured it would be better to be early than late.” 

“Better late than never as they say,” Beverly commented with a knowing smile. “I hope you have something good to ask him.” 

“Way to put the pressure on,” Richie muttered, following close behind her. “I tried to choose questions he hadn’t already been asked before, but there are only so many non-generic questions out there. I’m sure he’ll be asked the same bullshit by the other magazines.” 

“Dr. K isn’t doing any other magazine interviews. He’s agreed to only speak to a Paper Boat representative. You, specifically.” 

“What? You’re kidding.” It wasn’t unheard of for a celeb to only speak to one news outlet, but for him to choose to only speak to PB when he had so much to release seemed a bit out there. Richie wondered if Bill had worked his magic on Dr. K’s people and convinced them to sell the story to Paper Boat and only Paper Boat. 

“You’ll be the only so I certainly hope you make it worth his while.”

“No pressure there,” Richie muttered, adjusting his glasses nervously.

“Don’t be worried. Dr. K is very easy going. Just don’t make this into a big deal.” 

Richie snorted, giving the redhead a quick side look. “Right. Speaking to a premature rock God. It's no big deal.” 

Beverly chuckled, stopping outside one of the doors. “He isn’t a God. He’s just a guy with a lot of talent.” 

“Here I thought the lead singer of a punk rock band would want to surround himself with people who stroke his ego.” 

Beverly shrugged, reaching for the doorknob. “He’s not the lead singer of a band anymore. And K doesn’t surround himself with anybody he doesn’t want around. Constantly hearing how wonderful you are can be pretty boring, don’t you think?” Opening the door, Beverly gesturing inside. “He’ll be with you in just a moment.”

The room was empty but set up comfortably. There was a small bar with drinks and a table of snacks set up. Caramel popcorn and peanut M&Ms filled up the bowls. Richie grabbed a couple of candies, tossing them in the air and catching them. He walked around, admiring the room. It had that vintage rock and roll vibe to it. Vinyl along the brick walls and posters of all the bands the record label signed over the year. 

Sitting in a cooler were glass soda bottles and Richie lifted one, searching for a bottle opener only to come up empty. Shrugging, he brought the bottle to his mouth, hoping to open it with his teeth the way he used to in college, but that proved futile. He was older and his teeth weren’t as strong as they used to be. 

“It’s a twist-off,” A voice from behind him said. 

Richie turned and the bottle nearly slipped through his fingers as his eyes settled on the new person in the room. 

It was him, his morning glory. 

Dr. K. 

He looked exactly like Richie hoped he would. Utterly gorgeous. 

He wasn’t dolled up in eyeliner or hair gel the way he would if he was on stage or dressed in the best designers for a photoshoot, but he still looked too good to be true. Dark jeans with a dark jacket, a Ramones tee shirt hugging his toned body. His skin was pale, showing off every mark and freckle he had to offer. 

His hair was shorter now; another shock vibing out through the music world. First Trashmouth loses their lead and then the lead loses his hair. Richie didn’t mind it though. The shorter cut framed Dr. K’s face ever so perfectly. 

He was absolutely gorgeous and Richie felt like he was a six-foot tall garbage can on fire just standing in the same room with him. 

Richie watched as Dr. K came forward, going to grab a bottle out of the cooler. He twisted it open with ease, offering it to Richie to switch out with the unopened one he was holding. Richie took it, still not saying a word as he watched the other man open a second bottle for himself and begin to drink it. 

“What? Disappointed it’s not beer?” Dr. K asked him curiously. 

“It’s ten in the morning,” Richie mentioned. 

Dr. K shrugged off, sipping slowly at his drink. “As they say: it’s five o’clock somewhere.” He mentioned, taking another swig of the soda bottle. “So. You’re him, huh?” He asked, looking him up and down slowly. 

A tickle of nerves ran along Richie’s back and after nearly spitting out his sip, he placed the bottle down beside him. “Yes. Hi. Richard Tozier; representative of Paper Boat magazine.” He stuck his hand out, offering a shake. 

He wanted to be professional, but he wondered if that came off lame. Lame was the last thing he wanted because anything that wasn’t punk or rock and roll was incredibly lame. 

And Richie was very sure if he looked lame in front of Dr. K he would throw himself in front of a moving train. 

Luckily for him, Dr. K didn’t seem to mind. He offered a polite smile and reached out to shake his hand. His shake was tight and simple, though Dr. K did linger a bit longer than expected. 

“So, shall the interview begin?” He offered, gesturing over to the couch across the way. 

Richie scrambled to take his seat, wanting to make room for everything that was begging to come out of his mouth. 

“First I just want to say thank you for allowing us to do this. I know you aren’t a very public person so to be able to do a one on one with you is truly an honor.” 

“People are hungry. Might as well feed them.” Dr. K replied slowly. 

“Right. Okay. So a solo album. Why now?” 

“Why not now?” 

“Right, okay. Great answer.” Richie cliched his pen and began writing that down. “So the album. Do you have a title for it yet?” 

“We have a few things bouncing around but nothing has been decided yet.” 

“And it’s all original work that you’ve written on your own?” 

“Oh, the contrary; my first big solo album will be a complete list of some of my favorite songs already in creation.” 

Richie pauses, looking up. “So a cover album?” He questioned, pushing his glasses up. “Why? I only ask because you’re an amazing songwriter! Surely you can make a whole album up on your own.”

“Your flattery is charming. And I have many ideas for songs but there are already so many songs out there and I want to lend my own voice and specific style to them.” Dr. K paused, smiling then. “And don’t call me Shirley.” 

“Dr. K gets off with a zinger! Impressive.” Richie scribbled everything down, leaning back in the chair as he grew more comfortable. “Okay so. Cover album. Do I get to know any of the songs?”

“It will be between fifteen and twenty. We’re still narrowing it down.” 

“That’s quite a lot. Any particular reason?”

“I’m greedy.” Dr. K shrugged, sipping slowly at his bottle. 

Richie focused his eyes on the pad in his hands instead of on the bottle that Dr. K had his mouth wrapped around. 

“I will say each song has been chosen by me personally. Little ditties that touched me in one way or another during my life; going all the way back to my childhood to now.” 

“Do you have a favorite?” 

“I do, though I can’t say without revealing anything.” 

“What about in general?” Richie inquires. “Come on. Even a rockstar has to have a favorite song.” 

Eddie smiled softly, almost dismissively. Richie thought he was going to ignore the question or request a skip, but instead, Richie would himself getting the answer. 

“ _Clock strikes upon the hour and the sun begins to fade. Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away. I've done alright up to now, it's the light of day that shows me how. And when the night falls, loneliness calls…._ ”

Richie blinked, his mind desperately trying to get past the fact that Dr. K just sang to him to recognize the song. 

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody?” He asked aloud, his eyes squinting behind his glasses. “Your favorite song is by Whitney Houston?”

“Are you not a fan?”

“What? No, it’s not that! Whitney was iconic. Rest In Peace Queen, but I just meant. It’s surprising! Especially for somebody with your record.” 

“Even rockstars can have a soft spot for a good pop song,” Eddie told him with a small smile. 

Richie, having found himself staring, scrambling to write everything down. He paused, collecting his thoughts so he could wrap this up. He didn’t want to leave yet but he didn’t want to take up any more of Dr. K’s time.

“Why now?” He asked suddenly. “Why go solo now?” 

“My bandmates have lives of their own. Wives. Children. I have neither. Besides, I lived my life doing what people expected of me. Thought I’d have fun and throw a wrench in their plan for me.” 

A knock on the door came. After a few seconds, Beverly opened, sticking her fiery redhead inside. “K, I’m sorry to interrupt but Stanley is on the phone. Legal mumbo-jumbo.” 

“Duty calls.” Dr. K sighed, standing slowly from the couch. Realizing the interview was cover, Richie stood as well, shoving everything back into his bag. Dr. K didn’t move right away. He stood in front of Richie, that same damn smile across his lips. 

“Thank you. Really. Having this chance had been a total career changer.” He mentioned to him, pausing just before they could separate.

Richie always took his job seriously but come on, how detailed could you get about something when the story you were writing was on giant chocolate chip cookies or watching celebs balance pies on their heads? This was the first legitimate of Richie’s career and he was incredibly grateful for the chance. 

“Do you think I could bother you for a picture? I know it’s super unprofessional, but you’re like my idol.” 

Dr. K laughed then. Not mockingly, but rather with surprise. There was a glimmer in his eyes Richie couldn’t recognize, though he didn’t get the chance to question it as Dr. K came to his side in moments. 

Richie scrambled to grab his phone, holding it out so he could capture both of them. They smiled wide, standing beside one another closely as the picture was taken. Richie was definitely going to make that his lock screen the moment he got home. 

He offered his hand, one final shake and Dr. K took it without question. “It was nice to see you again, Richie.” He said, giving the hand one last squeeze before Beverly ushered him out. 

Richie stood there, offering a lame wave as he was left alone in the room. A solid minute passed before Dr. K’s words repeated in his head. 

  
Nice to see you again? What the _fuck_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So currently, my lock screen is of a manip of Richie saying "Eat Ass, Suck Dick, and Sell Drugs." Tell us yours! Also, please tell us what you think below. We thrive on attention.


	3. Kill My Mind - Louis Tomlinson

_**You kill my mind** _   
_**Raise my body back to life** _   
_**And I don't know what I'd do without you now** _

_**Kept me living** _   
_**From the last time** _   
_**From a prison of a past life** _   
_**On a mission just to feel like** _   
_**When you kissed me for the last time** _

While he may not have been the most studious of those who worked at Paper Boat magazine, Richie was anything if not professional. He stayed up throughout the night as he pieced together the interview to send to Bill. He wanted to ace that job, mind you. Even if he just did fluff pieces and bullshit reports, he always made sure his work was coherent and easy to read. 

When the following day came, he made his way back into the studio, clutching a large coffee with a double shot, recalling what the singer said again and again.

What the fuck did he mean by it was nice to see you again? 

He thought about all the people he had met throughout the years in the industry and nope. Dr. K wasn’t on that list. He had been a fan of Trashmouth since he was a junior in college, there is no fucking way he would have forgotten meeting him even if it was early on in his career. 

As he made his way to his cubby, he stumbled into Georgie, who was adjusting his camera and making his way down to the designated photoshoot area. 

“Jesus, you look terrible. What happened to you?” Was the first thing he asked him. 

“Thanks for the support, little man. I appreciate it,” he commented with a chuckle. “I had to edit the interview and it took longer than expected.” He admitted sipping at his coffee, trying to make it seem casual. 

He also stayed awake, examining the selfie he had taken moments before the bombshell. He had seen Dr. K’s face nearly every day for the past eight years. Richie was very sure if they had met before, he would have recognized him. 

You don’t just forget about meeting a fucking rockstar even if you met them before their star status. 

“Oh, right,” the guy nodded, going back to set his camera. “He’ll be here in five. The singer guy. His assistant just called me,” he informed. 

Sometimes he forgot that Georgie was nearly ten years younger than Bill. Still in college with a lush career on his shoulders all thanks to his brother’s connections. He would be jealous of the little fucker if he wasn’t such a damn sweetheart. 

“Cool. Cool cool.”

“You can come along if you want. No one is allowed access other than me and Bill, but since you’re doing the expose on him, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be there too.” 

“Oh. Right. Thanks.” 

And he was panicking again. He really shouldn’t be because like Georgie said, he was just a singer guy. Except he wasn’t. He was Dr. K. Lead -- former -- lead singer of Trashmouth. A band that meant more to Richie than he is proud to admit at this very moment. 

As they made their way down to the secluded area, Richie’s mouth started watering. Was that normal? He’d have to check with a doctor. A real one. True to words, Dr. K and Beverly arrived a few minutes later with Bill in tow. Georgie greeted them kindly, while Richie just stood off awkwardly to the side, staring out at him like a psycho as Georgie explained what they wanted him to do. 

It wasn’t going to be anything wild. Richie had seen other promotional photos of the man and while some of them helped him get through some very lonely nights, this wasn’t going to be like that. They weren’t giving him stupid props or greasing him up. 

He would wear the clothes he came in with (black jeans and a black and white checkered button-down), and Bill would talk to him throughout it just to keep him confident and relaxed. It was pretty standard with Paper Boat. They wanted real people so having a photoshoot that was more photoshopped than anything wasn’t their cup of tea. 

Giving Georgie a minute to set up, Richie watched as Dr. K approached him, that particular smile sitting so comfortably across his lips. It only made Richie more nervous. 

“Hey Richie,” He greeted him casually. 

“Hey! Hi. Good morning,” He rambled out, his hand still clutching his coffee. “Excited for the shoot?” 

“Nothing new to me to be honest, though I do appreciate your boss not lathering me up in lube.” He admitted with a small shrug. 

“That was a great shoot. I mean, I doubt it was comfortable and it had to be a bitch to wash off, but ten out of ten stars for me.” He mentioned, rolling on the balls of his feet. He was teetering. Waiting. Waiting for what though? If he didn’t spit it out he would miss his chance and then the mystery would only continue. “Hey, can I ask you something real quick?”

“Shoot.” 

“Yesterday, at the interview before you left, remember? You- you said it was nice to see me again,” he started, pausing as Beverly came over, passing Dr. K his own cup of coffee. 

Richie took a slow sip of his mouth, hoping to quench his throat that was suddenly very dry. 

Dr. K thanked her, sipping at his cup as Beverly left them again. “Mhm, I remember.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it and honestly dude, I don’t remember ever meeting you.” He finally confessed. “Did we like, have a class together in school? I highly doubt it because you were touring while I was getting my bachelor's, but I really can’t find you anywhere in my mind. And trust me, I would remember someone like you. Cute, and sexy, and talented. You’re like a triple threat and I have like, seven shirts with your face on it, plus multiple pictures of you in my apartment, and I’ve seen you perform sixteen times in the past eight years, and I should stop talking now because Bill is literally right there and told me I shouldn’t embarrass myself and me-“

Dr. K started laughing then, soft and sweet. His smile only grew and those dark eyes shimmered almost lovingly. “Beep beep, Richie.” 

And after that he was whisked away by Georgie. They didn’t apply much makeup other than some powder to help with the shine. Richie was left standing like a fool, watching as Dr. K was placed where they wanted him and Bill began talking to him as the photoshoot began. 

“Beep beep?” Richie muttered aloud, trying to remember where he heard that before. 

Until it clicked. 

_ “Beep beep, Richie!”  _

_ Richie laughed aloud, turning back to make sure the other boy was still behind him. It was summer and they were kids, which meant they were going to do whatever the hell they wanted to do without a single care in the world. Their town was small and boring, so what else were two ten year old kids supposed to do? Sit at home and watch cartoons? _

_ They rode their bikes around town, finally making it to the standpipe where they could have a bit of privacy. They went there more often than not, as it was the only place in the whole damn town that wasn’t a waste of space.  _

_ They hurried inside, just as they had so many times before. As children, preteens, and then finally teenages. Sure, two ten year olds running a muck was pretty annoying, but it was the thirteen year olds that caused the most trouble, with their potty mouths and terrible ideas.  _

_ Richie lead the other boy inside, sneaking through the rickety door and up, up, up the stairs until they reached the very top. It was the only place high enough where you could see beyond Derry. See the horizon as the sun set down and actually know there was more of this world than just their shitty town.  _

_ “All right, Rapunzel! I’ve brought you back to your tower, far away from that terrible, terrible witch that kept you captive!” _

_ “That’s not even how the story goes, dumbass.” The other boy laughed.  _

_ His words were meant to be cruel, but they weren’t. And his gaze wasn’t one of disdain but appreciation. Richie adjusted his glasses, moving closer to the other boy. “Either way, I’m still the prince charming, here to save the beautiful prince.”  _

_ The other boy rolled his eyes fondly.  _

_ “If your mom puts you under a sleeping spell, I’ll have to be the one to kiss you awake.” Richie announced.  _

_ “Wrong princess, Richie.”  _

_ “You do look rather sleepy, Eds. Maybe I should try it now? Just for practice?”  _

_ “Beep beep, Richie.” The other boy replied, pulling the taller boy in to kiss him softly.  _

Richie hurried out of the studio, going up the stairs and out onto the street to gather from fresh air. He felt a tightness in his stomach that he hadn’t dealt with in a very long time. He was sweaty and jumpy as people moved along the street beside him. It was as if he had seen a ghost and in some ways, he had. 

There was only one person in his life who said those words to him; the mocking clown nose sound that would be used to sensor him or shut him up. 

It was him. After all these years. After all the nightmares. After all the therapy sessions he finally walked back into his life.

Eddie Kaspbrak. 

They had been friends since kindergarten. Best friends almost right off the bat. Eddie was a shy kid who didn’t do well with crowds and Richie was a class clown who was shunned from all other cliques due to how obnoxious he was even from an early age. 

They were two people who didn’t belong in the small town they were trapped inside. Two boys who shared common interests and scars, and more importantly, secrets. 

Eddie Kaspbrak was the reason Richie turned into such a basket case, so afraid to come out of his shell and be proud of who he was.

And it was Dr. K that helped Richie step out of the darkness and into the light.

Now it appeared they were one in the same. 

There was no other way around it. Nobody else had ever said such a thing to him. “Beep beep” had been their thing, the thing Eddie would say to get him to stop talking back when they were just kids. There was no possible way anybody else would know that. 

After finally realizing he wasn’t happy with the life had been living Richie went to therapy where he basically cried out every sad story he had to tell. In the end the therapist suggested he reach out to his old pal. Richie looked him up on every social media account he could but there was no sign of him anywhere. 

It was like he didn’t exist anymore. 

In the back of his mind Richie thought the worst and he had good reason to. Things didn’t end well for them back when they were kids. They were torn apart due to the prejudices of society and the pure hatred from Eddie’s mother. He always wondered what happened to his friend, especially since it was very clear that he and Eddie were more than friends. 

There was a time when he used to think they were fucking soulmates. It was silly to think and he was just thirteen when those thoughts popped into his head into his head but back then he didn’t care. 

It was just him and Eddie against the world. But the world ended up winning in the end. 

Richie left the studio then, unsure of how he was supposed to carry on with the rest of the day with the knowledge he now had. He had practically gotten sick of it, thinking back to his childhood and how terrible things had turned out for himself.

He felt sick, like every time he got nervous about something. He felt sick and scared and happy? All of a sudden. Yes, he went to therapy because he thought his best friend was gone for good. Shit, he even called to as many conversion camps he could find information about across the country. Really, Sonia Kaspbrak would do anything to keep her son for herself.

And now Eddie was back in his life. How could he not see it? He went to sixteen concerts, got a poster of the band in his house, he even got cold showers courtesy of Dr. K. It was going to be a whole lot to process it. Process, first of all, that Eddie was alive. Two, that he was in his life again and even remembered him. And three, that he was Dr. K.

What. The. Fuck.

Richie went home hoping to collect his thoughts though it didn’t turn out the way he hoped. He was going absolutely bonkers trying to control all these new revelations that were coming his way. 

He tried to get his mind off it; even jumping into the shower hoping the warm water would make him feel like a normal person again but that was all for nothing.

He had to talk to Eddie. Obviously he remembered him. Remembered the things they used to say to one another. He felt like he was going out of his mind.

Looking at the clock, he swore sharply. He would be gone from the studio by now. Richie was mentally kicking himself for running away but it’s what he did best.

There had to be another way. He was desperate but he didn’t want to give up that easily. 

So he called Bill, hoping to use his small amount of improv and acting skills to get him in good. “Bill! Buddy! Shit man you’re never gonna believe this.” He spoke drastically.

He told Bill this wild story about how he was watching a documentary on Galaxy Quest that got him excited, resulting in him knocking over his coffee cup onto his computer, which short-circuited as he was editing the interview. 

“I got it back up and rolling but I wasn’t able to save. Yeah, it’s gone man. All of it. I was hoping you had the number of his assistant so I could reschedule another one on one.” 

“You gotta be more careful, Rich. MacBooks aren’t cheap.” Bill replied with a laugh. 

He texted him the number of Dr. K’s personal assistant. 

Easy as that. 

Richie was ready to relay the whole story back to Beverly and when he did he thought that maybe it would be just as easy. Of course, it wasn’t. 

“Mr. Denbrough asked enough questions during the photoshoot to qualify as an interview. Surely that shall suffice, Mr. Tozier.” She spoke coolly.

“It could but it wouldn’t answer the hard-hitting questions that our readers want to know about,” Richie replied. “Look it will only be a few minutes. I’ll even come to him if you give me the address.” 

“I very well can't just give you the address of Dr. K’s home.” Beverly laughed off dismissively. 

“Bev — can I call you Bev? — I need you to work with me here. I know I sound desperate and pathetic but I want you to know from the bottom of my heart, I am both.” 

He wasn’t going to sugar coat it. He ran away because he was a weak bitch but he had to talk to Eddie about this. Needed him to fill in the gaps of their lives. 

“Ten minutes, that’s all. I don’t want to waste his time, I just want to talk to him. You can even supervise if you’re worried I’m gonna jump him or anything.”

“You don’t give up easily, do you, Tozier?”

“Actually I’ve been known to give up very easily. It’s just different this time around,” Richie confessed. 

The line was quiet for a moment; too quiet that Richie thought that maybe the call dropped. He pulled away to look but found Beverly continuing. 

“He’s not at his current home. He’s staying at the Waldorf Suites until further notice.” She explained. 

He told her the name that he was staying under and explained he would be there for the rest of the night. Richie looked down at the paper, his heart jumping in his throat when he saw the name he was currently listed under “Spaghetti” which just hit too close to him. 

“Don’t do anything stupid, Mr. Tozier.” She warned lightly. 

“I make zero promises, Ms. Ringwald.” He said before ending the call. 

He jumped up from his seat then, rushing off to change back into his clothing so he could hit the road and get some answers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The truth is slowly being revealed. What do you think so far? Please tell us down below. We live for validation and aren't ashamed to say so.


	4. Angels - Robbie Williams

_**I sit and wait** _   
_**Does an angel contemplate my fate** _   
_**And do they know** _   
_**The places where we go** _   
_**When we're grey and old** _   
_**'Cause I have been told** _   
_**That salvation lets their wings unfold** _   
_**So when I'm lying in my bed** _   
_**Thoughts running through my head** _   
_**And I feel the love is dead** _   
_**I'm loving angels instead** _

Richie felt like he was running a mile a minute, even when he was behind the wheel of a car. His throat was tight and his head felt it had been pound against concrete. He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, trying to collect himself as he sat in the parking lot of the hotel. He couldn’t go in there looking like a deranged lunatic. 

He had his badge from Paper Boat and made sure to dress appropriately before heading to the hotel. He didn’t want them to think he was some kind of crazed fan who had a weapon on him. And yeah, maybe he was partially a crazed fan, but he wasn't carrying any weapon. When he went to the front desk, asking for the room number, he showed everything he had to. After checking with Dr. K’s assistant (Beverly, of course) he was given access and lead up to the suite. 

He knocked on the door, practically holding his breath as he waited. And waited, and waited, and waited. And for a hot second, he thought maybe he wasn’t even there. He was a fucking rockstar for God's sake, who fucking knew what he was doing with his time! 

And then the door opened and Dr. K was standing there, looking as gorgeous as ever. He didn’t seem all too surprised to see Richie there, but he also didn’t look like he was expecting him either. “Richie. Hi.” 

“Hey.” He breathed softly. 

“What’s up?” Dr. K asked with a soft smile. And there it was… a glimpse of the old Eddie he used to love. Used to? Or still loved? Did love ever truly die or was humanity just too soft? 

“Oh. I was just . . . in the neighborhood.” Richie said, rolling on the balls of his feet, setting aside the rambling in his head. “Do you mind if I come in?” 

Dr. K stood there for another moment before stepping aside. The moment he was allowed access, Richie rushed right in, his fingers combing through his hair slowly. “I lied,” he said as soon as the door was closed behind him. “I wasn’t in the neighborhood.”

“I sort of guessed that Rich,” the other said with a slight chuckle as he walked up to him. 

“I came here because you’re . . . you.” 

“I’m me.” Dr. K breathed out with a shrug. 

“You’re . . . shit, man.” Richie began pacing back and forth, breathing deeply. 

He had thought about it over and over again in the car. All the things he wanted to say to the other man. All the emotions that he had pent up and buried deep inside since they were just kids. And now it was his chance to spit it all out, but he just couldn’t. 

He didn’t look like Eddie. Eddie was short and wore bobby socks and short-shorts with a rainbow pattern. A polo shirt and bleached white shoes and always carrying around an inhaler. The little boy with the perfectly cut hair and adorable dimples. That was the Eddie he knew. The Eddie he loved. 

This man wasn’t that kid anymore. He was in jeans and a black shirt. Muscles that could be seen through the shirt and combed back hair. He had tattoos and bags under his eyes. 

Though that smile. That stupid fucking smile was the same. Richie knew it from the moment he saw it in person. 

That beautiful, boyish smile. After a decade and a half that still hasn’t changed. 

“I thought you were dead!” Richie snapped after a moment, turning to face the other man. “I thought . . . you just fucking disappeared, man. You were there and then you weren’t and I never heard from you again.” 

“I said goodbye,” Dr. K mentioned somberly. 

But it wasn’t supposed to be their goodbye. Eddie had snuck out one final time before his mother moved them away. They were just thirteen but so much shit happened between them. They were kids who were forced to grow up due to the hate that society wore as a badge of honor. 

Richie thought about that night often, dreaming of it until it slowly began to haunt him like a nightmare it was. Living with the knowledge that he’d never see this one person again. Eddie was the only person who made Richie feel like he was worth something and then he was gone in a flash and all he had left were the memories he wished he could forget. 

“I tried to find you, but nothing came up,” Richie confessed to him. “Eddie Kaspbrak didn’t exist anymore.” 

“He doesn’t. Not really. I don’t have personal social media or any of that shit. Beverly keeps all my personal information under lock and key.” 

“This is . . . I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone, man.” 

“I know this isn’t ideal Rich, but I’m glad you know.” Dr. K -- Eddie, he was Eddie -- admitted. “The moment I found out that you’d be the one interviewing me. Rich, I thought I was losing my mind.” 

“ _ You’re _ losing  _ your  _ mind?” Richie laughed aloud. “I’ve seen you over a dozen times in concert! I have shirts with your face on them. I’ve fucking jacked off to you dude, and now I’m finding out you’re my fucking childhood sweetheart or some shit.” 

“Why are you mad about this?” 

“I’m not mad!” Richie snapped. “I’m just . . . I’m not good with my emotions, okay?” He moved to plop down on the couch, hiding his face in his hands. “After you left, I had no one okay? It took a ridiculously long time for me to get around with being comfortable in my skin again. I tried to forget about that time, you know? I tried to move on, but it’s hard. And I thought I accomplished it, but now you’re back and all those memories and emotions are coming back.” 

Richie didn’t know if he wanted to run away or vomit. Maybe a bit of both. He honestly had no clue, but what he did know was that he needed to focus on something other than the harsh reality, mostly because it wasn’t all that harsh, to begin with. 

For years he had hoped and prayed that he’d see Eddie again and know that the other guy was all right. That his mother didn’t hurt him or send him somewhere that killed his beautiful spirit. Richie didn’t know how Eddie went from being the sweet little kid with the inhaler in his fanny pack to the punk rock God that was Dr. K but he was sure the transition was interesting enough. 

Eddie was beside him suddenly, a hand placed on his shoulder as they sat together on the couch. “I missed you, Rich.” He admitted quietly. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” 

He was Eddie. He could call him that now. He could look to this guy and not only see this amazing rock star but also his childhood best friend all grown up. They were both all grown up and that scared Richie more than anything. 

“I have like . . . nine hundred questions.” He admitted with a soft laugh. 

Eddie smiled in response, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Well, I’m free for the rest of the night, so if you want to ask, lay them on me.” 

Richie didn’t know where to start so he just started babbling out questions at lightning speed. What the fuck happened to him after he moved away? How did he survive his mother’s intolerance? How did he join Trashmouth? Fucking  _ Trashmouth _ ! 

“I can’t believe my favorite band is named after me,” Richie mentioned quietly. “That’s like, a total mind fuck dude.” 

“The label was putting it all together and needed something extremely alternative,” Eddie admitted, leaning back on the opposite side of the couch. 

They were sitting together, face to face the same way they would on the old hammock in Richie’s backyard. Legs tangled, feet near the face. 

“Trashmouth sounded so ridiculous and they ended up loving it.” 

“I feel like I deserve some revenue or something.” Richie teased. “All right. One name down. Now I have to know the other. Dr. K?” 

“You’re the one who gave it to me,” Edde mentioned fondly. “Every time you’d wipe out on your bike or do something to get yourself hurt, I’d bust my ass to get you fixed up.” 

“Dude, I was making a Kevorkian joke,” Richie admitted, laughing as he thought back to all the teasing he had done to the poor kid until their true feelings came out. 

Of course, even when they were technically an item and disgustingly in love despite only being twelve and thirteen, they still teased one another. It’s just how they were. That was their thing and it worked wonderfully for them. 

“Yeah well. Some people say I kill on stage, so it works.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” Richie said, raising the tiny water bottle they had taken from the minibar and sipping at it. As it turned out, Eddie wasn’t a hard drinker. He had gotten over that part of his life it seemed. He confessed to Richie that he dabbled in the rock star lifestyle a little too hard in the beginning and gave it all up so he wouldn’t join the 27-Club. 

Too many nights snorting things he shouldn’t be snorting and waking up in a bed with someone whose name he never learned left Eddie slightly scarred and he wanted nothing more to do than to grow from those experiences and be better.

There were still so many things that he wanted to ask him, so many answers that he wanted, but he knew they couldn’t go over it all at this moment. He tried to keep it slow, not wanting to bombard Eddie the first time they got to do this. 

Eddie was moving then, suddenly sitting up so he was in the middle of the couch, resting in the entanglement of their limbs. “Did you see me sixteen times?” He inquired. 

“On the third time I had the chance to go backstage, but I dipped last minute due to my nerves,” Richie admitted, quietly wishing he had something harder to drink.

“Seriously? God, if we had . . . Rich, we could have reconnected so much earlier.” 

“Trust me, you did not want to know college-Richie, okay? My hair was greasy, and my face was all sorts of fucked up. I was in the closet and I desperately needed to be held.” 

“Rich. I think you’re forgetting that I used to swap spit with eighth-grade-Richie, who sounds identical to college-Richie.” 

“I can’t believe you said swap-spit without cringing. Where did my little hypochondriac go?” 

“I think he died of a cocaine overdose a few years back,” Eddie joked dryly, going to lay back on the couch. 

“So that’s really what rock and rollers do? Do drugs, sleep around, and drink until you can’t remember your name?” 

“Something like that,” Eddie drawled out. “When they put the band together I wasn’t in a good place. I was good and I knew that. People told me that constantly. People said I was talented and put little white lines in front of me and offered me girls and when I said I didn’t want girls they offered me, guys. Some people were put off with the idea of a gay rockstar but others thought it would be a new wave or inventive. Woke or whatever.” 

“Will you tell me about it? How it all began?” 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” 

Richie raised a brow, taken aback by the question. “Wait you wanna see me again?” He asked dumbly. 

“Hell yeah, I wanna see you! We have seventeen years to catch up on, asshole. I wanna know what else you’ve been doing up to this point.” 

Richie snorted, really, really wishing he was drinking something stronger. “I can assure you, it won’t be half as interesting as everything you’ve been doing.” 

“Let me be the judge of that.” 

Eddie had something to do the following morning but he’d be free the afternoon. Richie had already told Bill that he wanted to work in the article so he’d use that excuse to not show up to the office. 

It was strange, making plans like these. With a friend. With Eddie. Eddie was his friend. Not a best friend like he had been years ago, but it was still something. 

Richie left the suite wondering what in the hell just happened. After years of wondering and searching, he finally found that long lost best friend and there was barely an ounce of awkwardness to it. 

Okay, maybe an ounce only because it was still so hard to see him as Eddie and not Dr. K. Richie was eager to know how he got from point A to B but he’d wait for that. 

If Eddie stayed in his life then he’d wait forever. 


	5. Still Into You - Paramore

_**I should be over all the butterflies but I'm into you, I'm into you  
And even baby our worst nights  
I'm into you, I'm into you  
Let 'em wonder how we got this far,  
'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all  
Yeah, after all this time  
I'm still into you** _

Richie went back home with more than half of his questions unasked but full of hope. Hope that Eddie wanted to see him again. Hope that Eddie wanted to answer his questions. It felt weird, but good, to have him back. 

Fuck, his therapist would surely have a stroke right now if he knew that the progress they had made went right down the drain. Oh fuck it, he paid him big time so he could do with what he learned whatever he liked.

And what did he do to distract himself from Eddie? Well, edit Dr. K’s interview all night. It was still weird, not separating Dr. K from Eddie. They were so different but at the same time, he couldn’t deny it. Under the eyeliner and dark clothes, there was still that guy with a soft smile he thought he would never see again. The boy that haunted his dreams night after night. 

Fuck. 

He was spiraling down again, wasn’t he? Maybe he needed to call his therapist and book an appointment after all these years. First thing in the morning.

He fell asleep around four on top of his computer, without even realizing it, so when he heard the doorbell rang, he was surprised he wasn’t in his bed. Confused and still half asleep, he went to answer. Whoever it was, he was going to have to bear with his bad breath, messy hair and pajamas, which consisted of a pair pickle rick pajama bottoms -yes, he was a thirty-year-old man, thank you- and an old Trashmouth shirt, his first one (and he was proud that it still fits.) Thank god Eddie wasn’t there to see that.

But Richie’s life was a mess and he left his luck forgotten in his mother’s womb, so when he opened the door, there he was, dressed as simply as the day before, but with a cap and glasses on, Eddie, a.k.a. Dr. K, in all his glory. 

“I was in the neighborhood.” The man said with a smirk, lowering his glasses down to squint at the wrinkled shirt Richie was wearing. “Is that mine?” 

“What? No, it’s mine.” Richie told him outright. 

“I meant my band, dumbass.” Eddie chuckled.

Richie had halfway forgotten he was even wearing the thing, mostly because he had so many graphic tees and band shirts that they all got mixed up whenever he’d pull something on to sleep in. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “What’s up, dude?” He asked, his voice heavy as he tried to come off as casual as possible. 

“Told you. I was in the neighborhood.” Eddie mentioned with a shrug. “Mind if I come in?” 

Richie always imagined this sort of thing. Well, kind of. He didn’t expect a rockstar to just show up on his doorstep. If anything, they’d meet at a stage door or a bar and he’d go back to the millionaires home, but instead, he was here. Wanting to come into his shitty apartment. It felt like something that came right out of a fanfic site. 

Except this wasn’t just some rockstar. This was fucking Eddie. 

Eddie who used to babble on and on about how dirty Richie’s carpet was, and how he never made his bed, and always left his clothes on the food. And honestly, it was the same shit except Richie had hardwood floors that could honestly use a polishing. 

Regardless though, it wasn’t like Richie could tell him no. 

So he stepped aside and allowed him to enter his apartment, wishing he had been given a heads up so he could have gotten dressed and clean up. However, Richie didn’t always get what he wanted in life. If he did, he wouldn’t be the miserable bastard he was today. 

Eddie entered the home, looking around casually before turning back to Richie, finally removing the cap and sunglasses. 

“If you wanted to blend in, you should have worn the polo and track shorts. Could have looked like every other dad in Whole Foods.” Richie mentioned to him, going to lean against the island, once again hoping to pull off the casual look. 

“You shop at Whole Foods?” Eddie asked with a raised brow. 

Richie didn’t reply. He shopped. Sometimes. Mostly ate out, because he could afford it, and anything he had at home was microwavable. And there was nothing wrong with that, at least to him. 

“So um, what’s with the haircut?” He asked instead. 

Eddie laughed shortly, caught off guard. “What?” 

“You cut your hair. You used to have like, all the flowy locks and shit,” Richie gestured to his hair, which wasn’t that long or flowy but was a lot longer Eddie’s newest hair cut. It was similar to what he used to wear when they were kids, back when Eddie’s mom was in charge of how he wore his style.

“Oh. Just wanted something different.” He admitted. “New album. New me, right?” Eddie paused, raising a brow to Richie. “Is it bad?” 

“What? No! No, no.” Richie shook his head quickly. “It looks great! Amazing, honestly. I mean, you went from looking like a seventies twink to like, a modern twunk.” 

“What the actual fuck is a twunk?” 

“A twinky hunk. Or hunky twink. You’re small but strong. Like . . . a bossy bottom.” 

“Did you just call me a bottom?” Eddie asked, sounding more amused than offended.

“Are you? Wait, are you...are you still into...you know.” 

“Richie, I write songs about fucking men, are you seriously asking me if I’m still gay?”

Richie paused, shifting from one leg to the other. He rubbed his hands together nervously, unable to what to say. He didn’t want to put his foot in his mouth or anything else. “I mean. I don’t know. Still trying to find out the difference between Dr. K and Edward Kaspbrak.” 

“I think I’m trying to find out the differences too,” Eddie admitted somberly, going to lean across from Richie. “But, for a starter, whether it’s Eddie or Dr. K. We’re both gay. You of all people should know that.” 

“Kids do stupid things when they’re, well, kids.” Richie shrugged. 

“Hiding inside the standpipe was stupid,” Eddie told him carefully. “Going down to the quarry or jumping off the edge into that disgusting water was stupid. What we did wasn’t stupid, Rich.” 

Richie didn’t know if he wanted to talk about it. They should. They had to. How could they not? They went from strangers to friends, to best friends, to boyfriends, and then to strangers again so quickly that even after all these years Richie was still dealing with the whiplash. 

They didn’t do anything more than a kiss. Fuck, they didn’t even fully makeout. They were fucking thirteen years old. The first time Richie even talked about touching his dick, Eddie called him gross and made him double wash his hands before hanging out. 

They were young, but they knew what they wanted and they knew the world wouldn’t fully understand them. They were alone together in this big, dark, scary place, but that was fine. Richie was okay because he knew he wasn’t suffering in silence. He had Eddie and Eddie had him. 

And then they have pulled apart and Richie didn’t know how to cope. He had to pay hundreds upon hundreds of dollars for a therapist just to be able to say ‘I’m gay’ out loud. 

And now here he was, talking about the sexuality of his favorite rockstar, with his favorite rockstar, who also happens to be or at least was, his favorite person too. 

What a clusterfuck. People should write a book about it. Maybe make it a soap opera. 

“What about you?” Eddie asked with a raised brow. “Did you switch sides in the past few years?”

“I met a girl at one of your concerts and threw up on her when she touched my dick,” Richie admitted in a blunt ramble. “Safe to say, I’m into dudes.” 

It wasn’t the worst night of his life. Close, but he’d give that to any time in High school, but overall, the night he attempted to hook up with a girl wasn’t the most shining moment in Richie’s existence. He already knew that he enjoyed guys, but he thought if he could convince himself that he also liked girls that he’d be okay. That he could get away with not having to pretend. 

College-Richie wasn’t the brightest, all right? 

He drank and got turned on by watching the lead singer of this new punk rock band and let some girl flirt with him. They made their way into the bathroom and made out, which wasn’t terrible despite the stickiness of her lip gloss and the sweet smell of her perfume giving him a headache.

Her breasts were soft and that was pretty off-putting, but he ignored it cause his dick was hard. And then she pushed her skinny fingers into his jeans and wrapped them around his dick and suddenly Richie turned into Linda Blair all over her. 

She wasn’t horrible about it. Like, she didn’t scream or anything. She just walked away from him and that was fine. It was better that way. 

Richie went back to his dorm and screamed into his pillow, falling asleep to the first Trashmouth album. 

“Oh buddy,” Eddie whispered. The way that you’d say when you realize how pathetic something is, but you don’t want to make the person feel even worse about themselves. 

“It’s fine,” Richie said, squinting his eyes shut. He hadn’t grabbed his glasses and the world was just a bit fuzzy. “I’m fine now. Gay as a three dollar bill and all that shit.” 

“I think it’s ‘queer as a three dollar bill.’” Eddie mentioned to him. 

“Regardless, it’s what I am. In and out of Maine.” 

“I won’t tour there,” Eddie said suddenly. “Wasn’t exactly ideal. The label tried to make me go but I refused to go on. I guess I got a rep for being a diva or whatever, but I won’t go back to that place.” 

“You never told me how you go out,” Richie mentioned. 

“Right.” Eddie sighed. “I guess you’ve earned my tragic backstory.” 

“I was there for it asshole. At least partly.” He straightened and stretched, scratching at his five o'clock shadows. “Lemme get dressed. Get my glasses. We can talk.” 

“You should keep the shirt on. It looks good on you.” 

“Glad to know you still like being on top of me, Eds.” Richie fired back, making his way into his bedroom. 

He returned not long after; actual clothes on this time around. Jeans and a plain tee shirt. Nothing fancy or anything with Eddie’s face on it. He had his glasses on this time around, though he partially wished he didn’t. 

When he walked back out, Eddie was standing in the corner, looking at the shrine that Richie had made to all the celebrities that had changed his life. Dr. K, of course, was at the forefront and now he was here, staring at it. 

“Oh fuck.” 

“It’s nice,” Eddie told him, his eyes remaining on the picture. “I’m honored.” 

“Listen. Lemme just get this out right now. I went through some dark shit and your music, I don’t know if it’s just you or the whole band, but it helped me a lot, okay?” Richie rushed to explain; he just wanted Eddie to stay and not run out scared that he was just another crazed fan who wanted to keep a lock of his hair in a book or something. 

“You don’t have to explain anything, Rich.” Eddie interrupted him carefully. “It’s . . . well, the band is good. They’re great guys, but I did the writing. I . . . I ended up becoming a star by accident, I guess.” Eddie admitted, moving deeper into the room and going to sit on the couch. “I was at school and took up music as an elective. I took up the guitar because it always seemed interesting. A buddy of mine had a band. I invited me to go and play with them for a while. After one show he got too drunk to go on and I ended up being the lead singer and guitarist. Some big wig for the music industry ended up being there. He likes my style and asked me to play with this group of guys who needed a singer and that’s that.” 

“I always thought you had a nice voice,” Richie mentioned going to sit across from him, knees bent as he leaned against the arm of the couch. “Then again, singing along to Whitney in your bedroom and selling out Madison Square Garden isn't the same thing.” 

“This break up. It’s not a breakup, with Trashmouth.” Eddie admitted gently. “Those guys are like brothers to me. But they have wives and families and shit. We’ve been doing this for almost ten years nonstop. They’ve missed a lot. They wanna take a break and I respect that.” 

“You don’t wanna take a break?” 

Eddie shrugged easily. “I’m not married. I don’t have kids. Shit, I don’t even have a dog. I think if I took a break I might lose my mind with boredom.” 

“You could get a dog,” Richie suggested. 

“I’d love to but seeing as I am homeless at the moment.” 

“ _ Homeless! _ ?” Richie spits out. “Dude, you’re worth millions, how the fuck are you homeless?” 

“My place is being worked on. Being demolished. Hated the way it looked so I’m having it remade, though the contractor I am dealing with is a real dickhead.” 

“Is that why you’re at the fancy-schmancy hotel?” Richie asked with a raised brow. 

“Beverly’s place is too small and I still have a penthouse in New York, but we’re recording here in LA so it’s not like I can go back and forth.” 

“We have a guy that we featured in the magazine a year ago that might be able to help you out. He’s an architect and we sort of put his name on the map so he owes us one. I could give him a call for you.” 

“You don’t have to do that Rich,” Eddie waved him off. 

“Well call it even after that time you stole that comic book from Keenes for me,” Richie mentioned, digging into his pocket for his cell phone. 

He texted Bill, requesting the number of Ben Hanscom as well as mentioning he needed an extension on the expośe on Dr. K, going to snap a pic of him on the couch to send to Bill as proof that he wasn’t lazing off. 

“You sure you don’t want me to sign that for you?” Eddie asked with a playful smirk, gesturing to the picture of him on the wall.

“Of fuck off,” Richie scoffed as he finished writing the text. 

“You could sell it! Make good money out of it,” Eddie suggested with a shrug. 

“Okay, keep talking, Eds,” Richie smirked. “But no. It was your first magazine spread and now it has a hell of a lot more value knowing it’s you. My little Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie groaned and threw his head back in fake frustration. “Jesus, I was enjoying living without those annoying nicknames of yours, Trashmouth.”

“You know, every time I remember you named your band after me, I get reminded that you owe me royalties. How curious, huh?” Richie teased him with a slight smirk. “No, but really, I wouldn’t sell it for anything.”

“I’m glad you like it. The shoot was a nightmare. I didn’t know what to do with myself.” Eddie admitted with a shrug. “That was when I first got into the whole Dr. K persona and I was trying to work out the kinks of it all.” 

“Oooh, Dr. K has kinks, huh? Sexy.” 

Eddie hummed, saying no more. “I should probably get going.” He mentioned, at last, making a movement that seemed like he was forcing himself up. 

Richie followed him to the door, going to lean against the frame after he opened it. “It’s so surreal, you know? Having you back here.” 

He never imagined having Eddie back into his life, let alone having him in his life in the form of his idol. 

“Well, I don’t plan on going anywhere,” Eddie told him, that boyish smile and the glimmer in his eyes doing wonderful things to Richie’s heart, stomach, and well, dick. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Richie mentioned, watching as Eddie pulled the baseball cap back onto his head and shoved the sunglasses back onto his face. Back to the disguise to keep him from the people on the street. 

Richie didn’t live in a super busy neighborhood, though it was better to be safe than sorry. Richie offered a lame wave as Eddie walked off, leaving him alone in his apartment again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	6. Creep - Radiohead

**_But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo_ **   
**_What the hell am I doing here?_ **   
**_I don't belong here_ **

**_I don't care if it hurts_ **   
**_I wanna have control_ **   
**_I wanna a perfect body_ **   
**_I wanna a perfect soul_ **

**_I want you to notice_ **   
**_When I'm not around_ **   
**_You're so fuckin' special_ **   
**_I wish I was special_ **

They see each other a few days later in Ben’s office. Eddie insisted Richie coming since it was his idea to use Ben in the first place. It was simple enough. Beverly and Eddie had gone over the blueprints of what he wanted for his home, all they had to do was offer it to Ben and see if he could make it happen. 

  


Richie shouldn’t feel nervous. He shouldn’t. But he was a little bit. Enough to make an appointment for his therapist again. It had been a quick session, the same hour as always but rather than beating around the bush, he got right into what it was he wanted to talk about, which of course, was Eddie. No surprise there. 

  


Now, his therapist knew a lot about Eddie. Of course, he did and he had helped Richie dig down deep and exhume those horrible memories and underlying feelings so Richie could live a normal life. 

  


And at the end of the day, Eddie was at the focus of it all. Their horrible break apart was the main cause of Richie warping himself into this cookie-cutter person who was too afraid to be his true self. He referred to it as a ‘break apart’ and not a ‘break up’ because they never really did break up. Eddie was taken away by his mother, never to be seen again and Richie was left all alone with these feelings that he was too scared to put into real words without Eddie by his side. 

  


But now he is by his side and all those feelings were coming back, but Richie wasn’t thirteen anymore. He wasn’t itching to just hold his hand but do a lot more. And he has done a lot more. Richie didn’t save himself for a boy he never knew if he’d ever see again. 

  


He lost his virginity in college like a bunch of other people and he had been doing fine since then. Had a boyfriend or two though it never really mattered. And he was fine with that! Richie had always done all right on his own, except when he wasn’t on his own. Back when Eddie was by his side was some of the best days of his life and now he’s back again. 

  


And he’s lying on the couch, upside down like the chaotic brat he is, rambling on and on to Mike who just hums and listens, taking it all into him. When he finally does speak again, he says the words that Richie has been waiting to hear since Eddie walked back into his life. 

  


“Enjoy it.” 

  


It seemed so simple. Just enjoying having his friend back, but it seemed so fucking hard to put it into action. Still, he promised Mike he’d give it a try. After all, Eddie made it very clear that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

  


So they met up with Ben in his office; himself, Eddie, and Beverly because it seemed the two of them were tied at the hip. Eddie had mentioned to him that it was hard to find real friends amid all his fame and Beverly was one of them, even if she worked for him. 

  


“Maybe you’ll find one who isn’t looking for a paycheck?” Richie asked as they waited for Ben to arrive. 

  


“Who says he hasn’t?” Beverly countered, hiding his smirk behind her coffee cup, standing when the door finally opened. 

  


Ben was the best in the business and took it very seriously. Every building was a part of himself and he’d never do anything just to make money out of it. In reality, he seemed rather excited to take Dr. K on as a new client. Not because of the publicity that would come from it, but just helping him out in general. 

  


“When it comes to my hotels or complexes, I always try to make it a home away from home. To make a place for someone to live permanently and be comfortable in, well it’s a true honor,” Ben explained, determined but approachable at the same time. Which was exactly how Ben was. 

  


They went over the blueprints, deciding to add a few things here and knock down a wall here. Eddie had never got to design his own home before and it was obvious he had very little idea what to do. “It’s like building a house on SIMS.” He admitted with a small laugh. “I just . . . my old house was small and overly clean. This ugly ranch house that my mom had plastic all over. I want to make this the exact opposite of that.” 

  


Richie thought back to Eddie’s childhood home and how it just well, didn’t feel like a home. Sonia made it feel cold and isolated, like a prison rather than somewhere Eddie would look forward to returning to after days of play. 

  


Richie’s own house had become their sanctuary after they had established their little romance. He had a lock on the door and his parents gave them privacy aside from the occasional knock to tell them to come down to eat or lower the music.

  


When Richie eventually came out to his folks they weren’t surprised. Not entirely. He never brought home any girls and his mother commented that it made sense now that he took Eddie’s moving away so hard. 

  


She always suspected that he had a little crush on his pal; Richie never bothered to correct her. 

  


“Well dude, this is a mansion for one.” Richie pointed out, gesturing to the prints. It was larger than any place he had ever seen, even Bill’s own home that seemed more like an estate than the regular old house. “At this point, you don’t just add a moat with a drawbridge.”

  


“That’s a castle, Richie,” Beverly commented. 

  


“He could toss some alligators in there. Keep the paps at bay.” Richie suggested. 

  


“I’ve been living in tiny apartments or penthouses up until now. I always wanted a house, even if it’s just me living there.” 

  


“Castle or ranch house, I’ll make sure you’re completely pleased with your new living space, Dr. K,” Ben told him. “I can take a look at these and have them finished by Monday. If you’re pleased, we can start as early as Wednesday and have it finished within a month or two.” 

  


“Wait, seriously?” Richie asked, shifting awkwardly where you stood. “How are you that fast?” 

  


“You did the expose on me, Rich. You above everyone should know how efficient I am.” Ben commented with a knowing smirk. 

  


“Just so we’re clear, that was heavily edited by Bill. Yeah, I sounded bored with my interview, which to be fair, I kind of was. Not your fault man. I didn’t even like building sandcastles as a kid.” 

  


“Well, we can’t all be handsome rock stars can we?” Ben asked, making Beverly snicker. 

  


Richie looked between the three, unsure of what he meant. Not like he put any extra effort into his interview with Eddie. 

  


Okay, maybe he did, but that was due to a personal interest in the project and not just because Dr. K was incredibly hot. 

  


“Why don’t we take this out to lunch with us?” Ben suggested, lifting his iPad, showing the downloaded 3D model he had of Eddie’s dream home. “Go into the real world, get some food, and figure out exactly what it is you want for your place.” 

  


“Sounds like a great idea,” Beverly mentioned. “I just know the place.” 

  


That place turned out to be tiny shack of a diner that Richie never heard of, though seemed to be a favorite of Eddie’s. It was right up the street from Ben’s office, making the commute easy for them all. Eddie entered comfortably, being greeted by the staff in a way that made it seem like he was a regular there. He wasn’t being bombarded by fans, but rather professionals, who asked if he wanted his usual, to which he eagerly agreed to. 

  


“This is where Bev and I go after any local sets.” He admits to as they all sit down and got comfortable. “Nobody who listens to my music comes here, so they don’t know me as the lead singer of a rock band.” 

  


“Instead he’s just a short guy with greasy hair and tattoos who tips very well.” Beverly teased. 

  


“I have the average height for a man, thank you very much.” 

  


“One day you’re gonna have to tell me the story behind those tattoos. The kid I grew up with used to flip his lid over getting a booster shot. Now you’re all inked up. I want the details, Spaghetti Man.” 

  


Beverly chuckled at the nickname, while Ben hid his smile behind his menu. Eddie leaned back in the booth, giving Richie a look that meant something other than a simple glance. “I’ll tell you someday. If you’re lucky.” 

  


Richie cleared his throat, refusing to take his words as anything other than playful banter and went into the menu, skimming the choices before settling on a good old fashioned cheeseburger. After ordering, they sat and hung out; with Ben going over a few changes and additions he wanted to make to the design, all of which Eddie was pleased to have. 

  


It was becoming very clear that this was more than just a passion project for Eddie. This would be his home, his first-ever it seemed and Richie wanted to support his friend any which way he could, even if it meant sitting on the sidelines and cheering on the changes. 

  


They ate their meals, each digging into their preferred choices with content. Richie watched with great amusement as Eddie sunk his teeth into his burger; the grease dripping down his cheek sloppily. Long gone was the young boy who used to gag at a moist burger or even at the word moist in general. He liked this Eddie, but he felt some kind of nostalgia about the little kid he used to know. 

  


It was obvious that there was a lot that Richie had to learn about his old friend, he just hoped they had the time to get around to it all. 

  


They all spoke so casually, especially Ben and Beverly who bumped shoulders and made little comments. Beverly also designs most of the clothes that Dr. K wears while on stage and Ben was hoping to update his wardrobe. 

  


Richie was mostly quiet, focusing on his meal and just watching Eddie from the corner of his eye. They were seated together, eating like it was back in eighth grade and they had lunch together. Except for this time, it was greasy cheeseburgers instead of peanut butter and jelly (Richie) and celery sticks and a ham sandwich (Eddie). 

  


When their meal was over, they decided to go their separate ways. Ben had pulled Beverly off so they could exchange information that way he didn’t have to constantly bother Eddie directly. Eddie and Richie stood on the other side of the diner, rolling on the balls of their feet as Richie swung his key ring along his finger. 

  


Eddie was watching Beverly casually, waiting for her to finish her obvious flirting. Richie cleared his throat, deciding to make a bit of small talk of his own. 

  


“I’d offer you a cigarette but I quit a few years back.” He admitted, slapping down all his empty pockets. 

  


“Oh. I don’t smoke.” Eddie said swiftly. 

  


“What? Dude, I’ve seen you do it.” Richie replied, surprised about that statement. 

  


Interviews. Music videos. Paparazzi pictures. It was very rare to see Dr. K without his signature smoke hanging from those delicate red lips. 

  


Eddie smirked, going into the pocket of his pants to pull out what looked like an inhaler. “Please tell me you don't need that after all these years,” Richie groaned, watching as Eddie twisted off the cap to reveal it was nothing more than a custom cigarette holder. 

  


He pulled one out, offering it to Richie. “It’s fake. Herbal cigarettes. No tobacco or shit like that inside.” He admitted. “You can’t have the bad boy image without looking like you don’t give a shit about your health, but that hypochondriac side is always a bit harder to shake.” 

  


“I can’t believe you used falsies after all these years,” Richie muttered, holding the item carefully in his fingers. “I feel like I’ve been lied to.” 

  


“Yeah well, I was lied to as well.” He dug into his pocket and grabbed his lighter, taking the stick back from Richie and lighting it up. “Turns out I didn’t have asthma after all. Thanks, Ma.” He inhaled, blowing the obnoxiously thick cloud directly into Richie’s face. Several sinful images crossed his mind, but he was quick to set them aside; maybe he’ll retrieve them later. 

  


“Nice dude,” He muttered, waving the sweet-smelling smoke away. “Your mom really fucked you up, didn’t she?” He hated Sonia, hated every single thing he remembered about her. Mostly the fact that she was the reason Eddie left. His Eddie left and made them lose years of whatever they had destined. Fuck you, Sonia Kaspbrak. I hope you’re rotting in hell.

  


Eddie hummed in response, sucking it down and blowing the smoke away to the side. “Downside. They burn quickly. Shame.” 

  


“Think you’ll tell me about it? About what happened with her and you?” Richie asked softly, making it clear in his tone that he didn’t want to force Eddie to tell him. 

  


Eddie paused, holding the stick between his teeth. “Maybe someday.” He replied. 

  


“If I’m lucky,” Richie replied, matching the other’s earlier smirk. 

  


“Do you wanna get lucky, Rich?” Eddie asked, flipping the lit cigarette butt onto his tongue, swallowing it down with a smirk. 

  


“That was like . . . simultaneously hot and gross.” Richie muttered after a beat. 

  


“So was half the shit you did when we were kids.” Eddie shrugged.

  


“All right. Let’s blow this pop stand.” Beverly mentioned, coming back to Eddie’s side. “Did you tell him about the show?” 

  


“Show?” Richie mimicked. 

  


“I was getting there,” Eddie admitted sheepishly, scratching behind his ear as he shifted on his feet. 

  


“Dr. K is putting on a surprise show Saturday night at the Bangoria Lounge,” Beverly mentioned to him.

  


“It’s not a whole show. I’m going to be performing one of the songs off the new album.” Eddie corrected. 

  


“It’s very hush-hush. Only those who need to know are aware of it.” 

  


“And I guess I need to know,” Richie muttered, watching as Beverly pulled Eddie towards their car. 

  


“I’ll put you on the guest list,” Beverly promised, waving as she shoved Eddie into the open door, barely allowing him to get a word in before the door closed behind him. 

  


It wasn’t exactly the most ideal invite but it was still an invite nonetheless. Richie swung his keys around once more, watching as the private car drove away, before heading off to his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again we hope you enjoy the latest chapter. Please, please tell us what you think down below. We love everyone sharing and leaving Kudos, but it's the comments that remind us that this isn't all just a waste of time. 
> 
> ALSO! Let us know if you catch the name of the Lounge and what its in reference to.


	7. Ziggy Stardust - David Bowie

_**Ziggy played for time, jiving us that we were voodoo** _   
_**The kid was just crass, he was the nazz** _   
_**With God given ass** _   
_**He took it all too far but boy could he play guitar** _

_**Making love with his ego Ziggy sucked up into his mind** _   
_**Like a leper messiah** _   
_**When the kids had killed the man I had to break up the band.** _

Richie stood in front of his closet, doing his absolute best to decide on what to wear to Eddie’s show. He thought about pulling up in one of his Trashmouth tee shirts, just for laughs. One with Eddie’s face front and center. It would be classic, right? But then he found himself wondering: what if Eddie found it creepy? Maybe he’d just tease the hell out of him, and Richie lived for Eddie’s teasing. So he did what he needed to do, he picked the best looking tee shirt -without any hole in it, mind you- with only Eddie printed on it and put it on.

It should be said that Richie didn’t believe in that fucking voodoo shit where you shouldn’t wear a certain band’s merch to that band's concert. That was some hipster logic bullshit. Like, if you bought it at the show, that was fine, but wearing it to any other show was lame or bad luck? 

Yeah, no. That shit made no fucking sense to Richie. Like, if you didn’t wear it to their show when the fuck was you supposed to wear it? So what, is the only supposed to wear the merch he buys outside of concerts? That shit is expensive. Yeah, back in the day he used to be able to get a tee shirt for like fifteen bucks. Maybe ten if he haggled, but now with inflation and scalpers becoming more crafty, your best bet is twenty-five and that’s after working the dodgy person out of the theater down from their asking price. 

And that’s shit found on location. Actual website stuff is even higher and yeah you can find shit online or in places like Hot Topic if you’re lucky, but even that it’s expensive as fuck. 

So yeah. Richie was going to wear his fucking band tee shirts when he wanted, and where he wanted. It was not as if he was wearing another’s band shirt, and he was a music connoisseur. So bite his ass, hipsters. 

He showered and did his hair in the best way he could. He got dressed and once again fell into another debate on whether he could wear his glasses or put his contacts in. He went with the former just because it was easier and not like he had somebody to impress. 

Eddie had seen him with glasses since the first time they became friends in the third grade. Big old bifocals, messy hair, and ugly graphic tees. Sure, his glasses were slimmer and more stylish now and he finally figured out a shampoo to deal with the grease on his scalp. And his shirts weren’t all that ugly anymore. Some were, but not all of them. Not the ones that saw the light of the day at least. 

When he deemed himself ready, he made his way to the lounge. He had never been to the Bangoria lounge before, but he knew enough about what to expect. Expensive drinks. Pretty people. Decent music. It wasn’t like the overly populated clubs that always had women in short dresses, dancing on top of guys who were popping bottles. It was more lowkey. Almost like an invitation-only sort of deal. You only went if you knew someone who could get you inside. 

And Richie happened to know two people who could get him in. 

He brought along Bill because he was socially awkward and didn’t want to seem like a lonely dude who wanted to go home with someone. After getting the go from Beverly, the two men headed out. Bill, of course, looked far better than him, in his dress shirt and nice slacks. Richie honestly just looked like he was going to a concert.

He was given a pathetic once over from the bouncer before he double-checked the list and low and behold “Richie Tozier +1” was on there, allowing them access. 

The actual place wasn’t lit, making it far better than any other club Richie has been in. Not that he’d gone to many. He’d been dragged into some by Bill during the hype of his career. When he was getting popular and he had money to throw around. When he got into his sexuality he decided to check out the gay bars and those were fun, but he found himself too fucking old to put up with all the bouncy twinks that wanted to call him daddy. 

Bangoria was as fine as it could be, though Richie didn’t give a shit about the interior as much as what was going on inside of it. The group of people who had arrived that night didn’t look like they’d be the first in line to buy Trashmouth tickets.

Richie mentioned this to Beverly when they finally spotted her. She had dragged poor Ben into this mess and the four of them sat together on the far right behind the fancy red rope. Eddie was nowhere to be seen and Richie took it as a sign of him preparing for the upcoming performance. 

“That’s the best part about this place, everyone who comes here is regret,” Beverly mentioned from behind her glass when Richie mentioned the odd turnup of people. “They don’t belong in this world. Bangoria is the haven that the musical misfits long for.” 

“That’s rather poetic,” Bill admitted. “And is this where you belong, Ms. Marsh?” 

“I belong wherever Dr. K belongs,” Beverly told him, grinning kindly. “We’re a tag team.” 

“Do you plan on moving in with him too?” Ben asked curiously. “If so, you should tell me what section of the house you’d prefer and I’ll make it fit your style.” 

Beverly smiled brighter, shifting to turn her body closer to Ben’s. “You’re sweet, but I have a place of my own. It’s lonely, but it’s home.” 

“More poetry,” Bill mutters, downing his drink. “Thank you again for inviting us.” 

“You can thank K. I’m sure he’d do anything for Richie at this point.” Beverly pointed out, causing Richie to sweat a little bit. What was that supposed to mean?

“I’ve known him since we were fucking kids. Back when we were bedwetters who didn’t know what to do with our dicks,” Richie explained with a little shrug. 

“You certainly seem to know what to do with them now,” Beverly commented, standing to her feet easily. 

She walked away from the table, her heels clicking against the floor as she left the three men and disappeared behind the curtain. They could see the stage from where they were sitting, but Ben wanted to get a better look. 

Richie thought about staying back, but Bill was hammering back his drinks, texting his wife and scrolling through emails so he decided to follow the other guy out into the crowd that was forming. 

Only big name people performed at Bangoria and if they weren’t big yet, then they’d be stars in the making. Bill had admitted on the way over that he saw both Adele and Lady Gaga perform there a time or two. Richie had also checked the place out online and saw other names like Bruce Springsteen, and Harry Styles, and even other members of bands that had gone on to do their solo work. 

In the end, it wasn’t completely unheard of for someone to just show up and perform. Eddie had told him he was only doing one song, which was good because it was getting late and Richie had officially reached that point in his life that doing anything past nine pm was just too much for him. 

When the lights went down and the MC came on, Richie took a swig of his beer. It was on the house (on Eddie’s tab apparently), but he wasn’t about to take advantage. He listened as the MC tried to hype the floor up without saying the name of the person who would take the stage and for the most part it worked. People seemed revved up and excited. Richie wondered how many actually knew who they’d be watching or if people just came so they could say they went to a Bangoria performance? 

“So you and Dr. K knew each other from childhood, huh?” Ben asked, attempting to make small talk as the MC went on. “That’s kind of awesome. I’m not friends with anyone from my childhood.” 

“We lost touch for a while but reconnected cause of the article I’m writing about him.” He admitted.

“Did you buy that for tonight?” Ben asked, gesturing to Richie’s shirt. 

“Oh no. I’m sort of a fan of his.” Richie mentioned, deciding to downplay it as much as he could because he was not in the mindset to get into his love of the band. 

Ben didn’t seem put off by it nor did he seem like he was about to tease him for it. “That’s cool. Supporting your friend.” Ben mentioned as the lights went down, covering the club in darkness. 

“Yeah well, it’s easy. Same old kid, you know?” 

A familiar sound took over then and it didn’t take Richie long to recognize it as a David Bowie original. He and Ben turned towards the stage where the colorful spotlight had begun to shine brightly. A shadow came through the curtain, stepping into the light. An acoustic guitar was in his hands, far different from the black electric that he had always had with him throughout his career. 

Richie had read in an interview that the guitar had been nicknamed Needle; a toss to the Dr. Kevorkian vibe he always thought when it came to his name and the needle being the weapon of choice for the good doctor.

People went wild over that and one of those people had been Richie himself. The guitar wasn’t anything special, but the man currently playing it was. Richie watched with what felt like new eyes as Eddie stepped up to the mic and began singing.

They had only been eleven when Richie first showed him his dad’s record collection. They were more into CD’s by then, but records were still pretty cool for the kids that liked to keep it old school. They sat up in Richie’s room, skimming through the choices before finally settling on the David Bowie album. 

The Ziggy Stardust character was as iconic as the lightning bolt from the Aladdin Sane cover and Richie had multiple memories of sketching that bolt-on his notebook throughout his school years. 

_ “David Bowie is a legendary dude. He just doesn’t give a fuck about anything.” Richie had mentioned as the album played on.  _

_ “Bullshit. Everybody cares about something.” Eddie tried to argue.  _

_ Richie just rolled his eyes. “Fine. He cares about music. Nuff said.”  _

Richie watched as Eddie played with the guitar and the backing track, his mouth so very close to the mic. He wasn’t dressed like Bowie or even really trying to do an impression of him. He was wearing the same clothes he always did when he performed, which clung to his body so nicely. 

What truly surprised him was when Beverly came up onto the stage and took the guitar from him just before the third verse came up. He gripped onto the mic stand, swaying slowly to the music. This was new, as Dr. K had never been one to dance to his music. Covers or not, he was a rock and roller who was known for having a guitar in his hands during every single song. Richie wondered how long it had taken him to learn it. Sure, his mom encouraged him to play the piano when they were kids and Eddie did have a nice voice when they were just boys, but he never saw music to be a possibility for his future. 

Now he was standing before a raving crowd, giving it his all and putting his entire body into it and Richie was . . . well, Richie was starstruck. Especially when that third verse hit and Eddie was rolling his hips to the music, his mouth moving so delicately around the mic. Richie never knew if Eddie could dance. He was always so small and pintsized and yeah they had messed around with dancing when they were alone in his room, but that wasn’t like this. 

Hands in his hair, pulling it back as he swung his hips to the beat or holding that mic stand so tightly in those gripped fingers of his. 

He used to give his everything when it came to playing the guitar on stage and Richie was fairly certain there was nothing sexier than watching those fingers at work, but as he stood off to the side, gripping tightly onto his beer bottle, he was fairly sure he found a close second. 

Richie found himself lost in the performance. He was wrong when he told Ben that this was the same kid he grew up with. Eddie and Dr. K were two very different people in Richie’s mind, which was very dangerous to think about. 

Eddie was the best friend that had been taken too soon and that had been graciously given back to him without any warning. Dr. K was the musical messiah that was the true salvation to Richie’s near self-wrecking. 

Christ, what he would do to be a microphone at that moment. Especially that microphone. 

Those puffy lips; tightening fingers. Richie finished his beer, though his throat was intensely dry when Eddie finally finished the song. Ben was cheering along with the rest of the crowd, all while Richie just stood there trying to process what the fuck just happened. 

It became very clear to him that things were going to become a lot more complicated. 

And a lot more interesting. 

When he finished his song, Beverly appeared beside him, tugging on his arm. Richie forced himself out of whatever sexually driven trance he had been put under and followed her out past the curtain to where Eddie was standing. 

He was sweaty, with his shirt off and towel around his neck. Richie didn’t even realize how warm it was until that moment. Eddie smiled brightly upon seeing Richie, gesturing with his hand to Richie’s shirt. 

“God, I haven’t seen that design in ages.” He admitted fondly. “Did you like the show? I mean, it wasn’t a show. One song, but it’s off the new album and my manager Stan thought it would be a good way to promote myself.” 

Richie knew he had to talk, but he couldn’t. He found himself staring off at this man. His body glistening under the dim lights, those tattoos that he had memorized in the back of his head now dark and deep inside Edde’s delicate skin. Eddie was waiting for an answer, but all Richie could think about was how closely Eddie swayed against that mic stand. 

“David Bowie. Good call.” 

That’s it. That’s all he could say. Good job, Tozier.

Eddie chuckled, taking the words as they came. “Thanks, Rich.” He muttered, tossing the towel off to the side. Beverly appeared, passing him another shirt to put on. “Wanna get out of here? Grab a drink or something?” 

Richie bobbed his head, keeping his lips in a tight line. He didn’t want to make it obvious that he was staring, so he just avoided Eddie’s gaze until he could get a grip of reality once again. 

Yeah, things would certainly be more interesting now. 

Fucking great. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to the select few losers that are reading this. Did you enjoy the chapter? Are you enjoying the series overall? Please tell us down below. Reading a fic and not leaving a comment is a sin and we know you are all dirty little sinners, but help some hard working assholes out.


	8. Memories - Maroon 5

_**Here's to the ones that we got  
Cheers to the wish you were here, but you're not  
'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories  
Of everything we've been through  
Toast to the ones here today  
Toast to the ones that we lost on the way  
'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories  
And the memories bring back, memories bring back you** _

Richie wasn’t avoiding Eddie. Honest to God, he wasn’t. They both had their own lives and own issues to deal with, Richie was just focusing on his own. Besides, he needed to finish his spread and he was sure Eddie needed to work on his new house and his new album. Space was healthy for all friendships and right now, Richie needed him and Eddie to be healthy.

They weren’t the inseparable butt heads they had been as children but they saw one another enough times to make it seem like they were. Richie didn’t know what to make out of it, especially after the performance at the club. 

It was very clear to Richie that his attraction to Dr. K was still running strong. That wouldn’t have been an issue if Dr. K was still this mythical person that was just out of reach. Truth was, Richie knew the good doctor better than anybody and that terrified him. 

They weren’t little kids playing pretend. Richie couldn’t hold a boner for his best buddy anymore. That just wasn’t cool. He didn’t want to get the lines crossed for him and Eddie now that they were in each other’s lives again. It was different when they were kids and all they had were each other. Eddie has other options now and Richie has to respect that. 

He answered calls but didn’t go out when Eddie invited him. He stayed Eddie’s friend but made sure there was some distance between them because that was what they needed. Richie wasn’t dumb enough to get his hopes up like he did when they were children.

He continued to work in his expose and follow along with whatever guidelines Bill had given him. He wanted the magazine to be worth every percentage of effort they all put into it. 

He wanted this to be good for everyone involved so he put his whole heart into it just hoping it didn’t get too bruised in the making. 

Eventually, he found himself longing to see Eddie though he drowned those emotions out with alcohol and sleep. If he couldn’t convince himself to do anything overly wild or dumb he would make sure he had the chance to do the right like at some point or another. He continued to talk to Eddie but never allowed himself to be persuaded out. 

It wasn’t until the other man came to him in desperation. It seemed Ben had finished on the design of his house and wanted to meet up to go over it. Of course, Eddie didn’t go anywhere without Beverly and it was plain to see the redhead was rather fond of the architect.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to survive the heterosexuality and be the third wheel to my dinner, Richie.” He whined into Richie’s ear over the phone. 

How could Richie say no? He couldn’t force his buddy to be an awkward third wheel for his other friend. So he got dressed up and met at the restaurant. It was a fancy restaurant, definitely out of his budget. The type where the menu was barely in English and the words were all in a fancy scripture and they didn’t even bother to put the prices next to things. 

He didn’t expect Eddie to choose a place like this and it seemed like he didn’t. Ben was more familiar with the place and proceeded to order for everyone. Richie wondered if he was trying to show off for Beverly but he wasn’t acting smug about it. Didn’t flash a smile or show off his thick credit card. He wasn’t putting his main focus on the beautiful redhead beside him, but rather talking to the entire group.

Shit, halfway through the dinner Richie found himself falling for the architect because he was just so damn sincere and charming.

The dinner itself was enjoyable enough. The food was in small portions, but delicious. He’d still much rather stick with the greasy burger or cheese fries he usually went for, but there was nothing wrong with having some adult time. They drank fancy wine and made small talk. 

Ben completed the blueprints on the house, much to Eddie’s delight. He created a 3D model on his iPad and from what Richie could see, it would be one hell of a place to live in. Not the giant mansion that everyone had been describing, but still something of an estate. 

It made Richie think back to when they were kids and they’d mess around with those fairy tale books. Richie would say that Eddie was the prince locked away in the highest tower of the scariest castle and Richie was the knight that was coming to save him. 

Now it seemed the castle was coming to life and Ben would make sure that Eddie was the one holding the key. 

“I’ll make this place a home for you soon enough,” Ben promised as he pushed the iPad back into his briefcase.

“Can’t remember the last time I had a home,” Eddie mentioned to him. “Isn’t that what they say? It isn’t a house that makes a home?” 

“Way to mock his career choice, Eds,” Richie muttered, grunting when Eddie kicked him from under the table. 

“No, but it’s true. At least in part,” Ben interrupted them with a soft smile. “The house is merely a structure, you make it a home. You and whoever you choose to share your life with. Friends, a partner, pets…”

How on earth was this guy: 1) single and 2) not a poet. 3) not at least bicurious. Richie was lonely and didn’t mind being a sexual lab rat for a nice guy.

“See? I told you. I’ll make it a home. Not like the house, I used to live with my mother…” Eddie commented with a shrug. 

As the subject got a little bit deep, Bev was quick to change it, turning her attention away from the rockstar and towards Ben. “I read the spread Richie did of you and I did a bit of research, what you do is quite impressive.”

Richie was grateful that Bev turned the subject around but he wasn’t eager to hear or see heterosexuals flirting.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t feel it at first, but once he did, it made him tense. At first, it was just Eddie kicking him softly, playfully. And Richie smirked, kicking back. It was just like when they were kids, in their world, with their inside jokes that others hated so much because they just couldn’t understand. 

_ From the time that he was in second grade, it had always been RichieandEddie or EddieandRichie. They were tied at the hip, always scheming, always plotting. They were going to take over the world together, one way or another. Richie didn’t remember having any other friends before him and those who came after weren’t worth space in his memories.  _

_ They were seated together in second grade and their backpack cubbies were right next to each other. It was meant to be alphabetical, putting Eddie (K) far ahead of Richie (T) but the teacher decided to let the kids pick their own this time around.  _

_   
_ _ They shouldn’t have worked and on paper, they didn’t. Eddie needed to be clean and proper while Richie lived for clutter. The entire world was pinning them to be total opposites, but in reality, they were perfect for one another. Two halves of the same coin.  _

_ Third and fourth grade came along and they were in the same class, but not in fifth. Eddie’s mom was happy about that because she wanted her boy to make some better friends. Ones that were more sensible or reliable. Mrs. K never liked Richie, though she never outwardly said it to her so. Anyway, Richie had a total meltdown and his mother sweet-talked the principle to switching Richie into Eddie’s place.  _

_ She wanted her son to make other friends too, but she wasn’t blind to the signs that Richie and Eddie were more than just friends. They were dependent on one another and to her, that was fine. They were little boys who stayed out of trouble. She was thankful that her only son had been able to find a nice boy that kept him safe and away from the Bowers gang.  _

_ By sixth grade, their one class turned into eight and Maggie Tozier always made sure her son had at least three with Eddie, especially gym class.  _

_ Richie was there almost to monitor Eddie due to his apparent asthma and would always remind the gym teacher of that whenever they did something a bit too strenuous. And of course, if Eddie was sitting out, Richie had to sit out too. It was only fair.  _

_ It was around the sixth grade when things started to change. It was subtle, but noticeable for them both. They were eleven and their bodies were changing. It wasn’t excessive though Richie had no problem talking about the differences. Hair growing, voice dropping, the realization that girls' bodies were changing too.  _

_ Richie always talked about girls because that was what he thought he was supposed to do. He thought girls were gross as a kid, but now he was slowly becoming a man and they weren’t gross anymore, right? They were hot. His babysitter? Smoking. Or maybe she was boring. Richie didn’t know. He was always too focused on her boyfriend, who was in college and always dressed overly nice for a guy who managed a pizza place.  _

_ He was nice however and always brought over pizza when he’d hang with them. _

_ Anyway, the changes came when he realized that holding hands wasn’t such a chore anymore. Like, back when the school he used to hold hands with Eddie or whoever he was partnered with for whatever project or reason they’d have to hold hands and it was so fucking annoying. Like, who the fuck wants to hold hands?  _

_ As he grew bit by bit, Richie began to realize that it was also a coping mechanism for when you’re scared. Potentially, you could relax someone just by showing you’re there for them and the best way to do that is by holding hands.  _

_ Richie learned this when Eddie and he stuck in to see a rated R movie at the Aladdin. They were supposed to be seeing some G rated flick, but it was so boring Richie was ready to rip his balls off, so they dashed into the horror movie across the way.  _

_ It was amazing. Richie was going to be fucked up for weeks afterward.  _

_ Eddie, however, wasn’t used to such carnage. He told Richie he didn’t want to leave because he wasn’t about to pussy out on their first-ever rated R movie, but it was obvious the movie was messing with him.  _

_ First, he put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and let Eddie turn away during the super scary parts, but then he found himself reaching for Eddie and wanting to comfort him. Eventually, his hand fell onto Eddie’s and it stayed there. Eddie clutched it without question and they held hands for the remainder of the movie.  _

_ He didn’t hate it, not really. Eddie’s hand had always been so much softer than his thanks to the baby lotion that his mom bought for him. He was gentle and sweet and holding his hand wasn’t the world thing in the world.  _

_ They ended up holding hands a few more times while sitting alone in the dark. Two more times at the movies and then during a thunderstorm at a sleepover. That time it was Richie who needed comfort as thunder always messed with him. It was too dark and loud. He was blind so the lightning always fucked with his sight.  _

_ They stayed together in his bed, holding hands until he fell asleep. After that, holding hands when they were scared became a prominent thing. They never did it in front of people, even though it wasn’t that big of a deal to them. Just bros helping bros, you know? _

As Richie found Eddie liked to do much more lately, the latter took their playful game further and, as he kept his gaze fixed to Richie’s, he grazed his foot up his leg slowly and teasingly. That earns a little gasp from Richie as he moved his leg away and sat further, his cheeks were slightly flushed. What the hell was Eddie doing?

That didn’t discourage Eddie, though. No no. He shifted slightly closer to the table and did it again, glancing at the other pair to check they were still in their world. Richie just cleared his throat and shifted closer to the table as well.

Wait. What did that mean? Did Eddie like him? Did Eddie want to sleep with him? Or he was just a fucking tease and found out about Richie’s crush and was just punishing him?

Those thoughts went over and over around in his head, haunting him like the demons in his head he swore he locked up in the back of his mind. 

“So, Trashmouth, are you still single?” Eddie asked before taking a sip of his wine, his foot going painfully slowly up Richie’s leg, already by his knee now. 

He swallowed and shook his head. Did the air conditioner broke in there or was he suddenly That hot? “Y-yeah,” he managed to answer brokenly. “No one wants anything with the human embodiment of disaster.”

“Oh come on, you can’t be that bad. I mean, you are bad. But- no you’re right, you’re the human embodiment of disaster. You always were though. One of the things I like about you,” Eddie commented with a little shrug. 

Like. Not liked. Like. Present tense. No past. Point to Richard Tozier. 

“You. But not other people. You have chaotic energy, Eds, of course, you’re attracted to my disaster.” Richie was gaining confidence. Two could play this game, Kaspbrak. 

“I guess I took some of that and applied it to Dr. K. Is that why you like him so much?” It was weird to see Eddie talk about Dr. K in the third person, after all, he was Dr. K, but at the same time, he wasn’t. 

“It’s different,” Richie admitted. “But I’m too sober to have that conversation, Spaghetti. What about you? You got a significant other I have yet to meet?” The truth was, he didn’t want to know if Eddie was seeing someone. He respected his choices but it would be stupid to deny he would feel bad about it -borderline heartbroken. 

“Nope. Not seeing anyone either. Too much time touring and recording. So little time to try and date. I mean, I did try, but I couldn’t find anyone that interested me enough to keep around.” That was when he took it further and moved his foot dangerously up Richie’s thigh. 

Jesus fuck. Richie was cursing internally at Eddie’s boldness. He didn’t want to back up, but he also didn’t want to sport a boner in the middle of a fancy restaurant. He was sure he was going to get arrested for indecency. And he didn’t want to taint his career or worse, Eddie’s career. He felt like a fucking teenager, but it wasn’t his fault. He had his crush doing certain stuff with his foot that should be illegal to do in a public place and he hadn’t had any other company than his hand lately. 

“Oh, no one is worthy of Dr. K’s time?” Richie teased, trying to play it off.

“Not until now, no. You’re the only one that can keep up with my witts cause you helped me shape them,” the musician explained, leaning over the table. “You got my full attention now, Rich. What are you gonna do with it?”

_ Richie had gotten used to the rambling. He honestly did. Eddie did it so frequently that he had trained himself to understand it as if it was a second language. They were riding their bikes home from school when Eddie was currently blabbering on and on about their health class and their latest discovery.  _

_ “Why the fuck would anybody want to put their mouth on another person's mouth? How could anybody want to put their tongue in another person’s mouth?”  _

_ “It’s what the French do!” Richie argued in a faux (and somewhat terrible) French accent.  _

_ “I’m not French, Richie! I’m Polish and I think European and we don’t stick our tongues in other people's mouths!” Eddie snapped at him.  _

_ They had learned about transmittable diseases, like herpes, HIV, and the flu. Eddie had some weird hangup on mononucleosis however and refused to let it go.  _

_ “I’m never kissing anybody who is sick. That’s gross. If my wife ever gets sick I am making her sleep in another room. Or I’ll sleep in another room. I’ll sleep on the couch if I have to.”  _

_ “You know you can get sick other ways, right? Like from the water fountain at school or sharing knives and forks.” _

_ “Yeah, but this is called the  _ kissing disease _ for a reason!” The shorter boy insisted. _

_ “Come on Eds. Would you seriously get pissed if you got sick from kissing? I mean, kissing is supposed to be amazing.”  _

_ “How is it amazing if you can get infected by it!?”  _

_ “So what, you’re never gonna mack on a girl because you’re worried you might get an itchy throat? A sore throat is better than a sore pair of balls, Edward!”  _

_ “Oh grow up, Richie!” _

_ It was a few days later, after a quiz on the subject that Eddie brought it up again. They’re down by the quarry throwing rocks into the water. Eddie continuously refused to ever kiss someone on the general fear of getting sick because of it.  _

_ “No fucking way would I get upset if I got sick from kissing someone.” Richie insisted, absolutely adore the idea of catching a cold or sore if it meant getting frisky. “I’d be fucking honored. I want to be the one getting someone sick because I kissed them so much.” _

_ “You are such a dumbass,” Eddie muttered, rolling his eyes.  _

_ “And you’re all talk. No fucking way you’d get mad at someone if they got you sick from kissing. You wanted to kiss him, dipshit. You can’t get mad when you were also involved. That’s like some lawyer shit right there.”  _

_ “Of course I’d get mad. They got me sick.”  _

_ “Yeah, but you wouldn’t go around kissing some random person, Eds. You like this person enough to want to kiss them. So what, you’re gonna make out with your girlfriend and then throw a fucking temper tantrum because she got you sick?”  _

_ “No!” Eddie said a little too quickly. “I don’t know! What, you wouldn’t get mad?”  _

_ “Fuck no! If I like the person enough to have their tongue in my mouth, I wouldn’t get pissed off if they got me coughing up a lung or something.”  _

_ “Not a single person?” Eddie asked quietly. “What if they get mad at you?”  _

_ “If the person likes me enough to kiss me, they shouldn’t get angry if they catch the sniffles, you know what I mean?”  _

_ Richie scooped up another rock and tossed it across, cheering happily as it skipped almost perfectly through the water. He turned to ask Eddie if he saw, but the boy was already beside him.  _

_ The space between them quickly became non-existent and a pair of soft, peppermint-flavored lips were on top of his dry, flavorless ones.  _

_ The kiss was over in a matter of seconds and before Richie could even process what the hell was happening, Eddie was excusing himself, insisting that he had to go home. “Don’t get mad if you catch a cold, Rich.” He commented before hurrying up and onto his bike.  _

_ Richie didn’t get to bring it up to him for a few days. He didn’t see Eddie all weekend and by the time they got a chance to talk it was after school Monday afternoon.  _

_ “So I didn’t get sick. You know. From the kiss.” He mentioned, shoving his glasses up as they walked their bikes down his street. “And even if I did, I don’t think I’d get angry over it. I mean, if I was going to get sick, I would rather it had been worth the effort, but I’m not gonna get pissy over a little peck.”  _

_ “So wait, you’re more annoyed that the kiss wasn’t deep than you would be if you had gotten mono because of it?” Eddie concluded.  _

_ “Kinda?” He mentioned. “Hey so I read further into the health book and it said that you can create an immune system to mono if you kiss a lot.”  _

_ “We already have an immune system, dumbass. That is what mono attacks.”  _

_ “Yeah, but you can become immune to it. It’s like a double immune system.” He added with a shrug. “Just thought you might like to know. Just in case you want to take extra precautions.”  _

“Do you want us to leave?” Ben asked, cutting into the conversation. 

Richie leaned back, going to kick Eddie playfully under the table. He stood his head at him fondly, his arms crossing over his chest. 

“So Eddie said you two were an item back when you were kids,” Beverly mentioned, smiling brighter than the cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Said it was something.” 

“Puppy love?” Ben suggested gently. 

“Something like that,” Eddie mentioned, a shy smile creeping along his cheeks. 

“Look, when you’re trapped in a small town and happen to be very gay, you take what you can get,” Richie replied, wincing when Eddie kicked at his shin. 

“Asshole,” Eddie laughed. “We were lucky to have one another. The shit we shared. It was like catching lightning in a bottle.” 

_ The kissing became the norm for them. Neither of them knew how but it just did. They weren’t doing anything nasty; no frenching underneath the bleachers or trying to cop a feel.  _

_ They were kids. Twelve by this point. They weren’t being dirty or trying to move faster than their bodies allowed. They enjoyed one another’s company and enjoyed holding onto one another for as long as they could.  _

_ They would share a peck or two if they felt like it. Sometimes Eddie would ramble on and on about something and Richie would kiss him to shut him up. Other times Eddie would lean up in his toes because Richie was growing taller by the days and he’d kiss him goodnight.  _

_ They would still hold hands during movies even if it wasn’t scary. They would sit alone in the theatre, sharing popcorn and holding hands. Or they would be in Richie’s basement where they would listen to records and Richie would spin Eddie round and round, holding onto his hand the whole time.  _

_ Some of their greatest moments had been when they were locked away in that basement. Richie’s parents had an amazing record collection and Eddie’s father had some he liked to contribute. Eddie has brought some over a time of two and they’d sit together just listening to music for hours. _

_ That basement had seen the best and the worst of them. Sometimes fantastic, other times utterly ridiculous.  _

_ “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal over this,” Richie said, stomping down the stairs. “Not like he would scratch it or anything.” _

_ Eddie followed him down, taking each step heavier than the next. They had been fighting as of let and Eddie blamed it all on Richie’s relationship with the new Bowers on campus. He wasn’t as much of a dick as his older cousin, but he still wasn’t the most pleasant to be around. _

_ They had been partnered up on some science project and be total buddies ever since. He had a rad music selection and Richie had been trying to impress him since.  _

_ “I don’t know why you’re trying so hard. He’s not even that cool, to begin with.” Eddie muttered with a roll of his eyes.  _

_ “Are you kidding? He’s amazing. He can do an entire kick-flip without even breaking a sweat and his music collection is dope.”  _

_ “Bullshit. Probably just a bunch of fucking grunge band garbage.”  _

_ “Grunge is cool, dude. But he likes different types of music.”  _

_ Richie was going through his selection, choosing a few that he wanted to bring to school to show the kid. Records weren't “in” anymore but he was still holding out on that fantastic sound that could only come from records.  _

_ Eddie watched him carefully, jumping up from the couch when he saw a familiar album in Richie’s hand.  _

_ He stormed over, ripping the News of the World album from his grasp. “Are you fucking crazy? You’re not letting him have this.”  _

_ “What the fuck?”  _

_ “I lent this to you because I wanted you to know the music but I am not going to let you give one of my dad’s albums to a fucking Bowers.” _

_ “I’m not letting him borrow anything, I am just bringing them into school to show them off,” Richie argued with a frown.  _

_ “Show off the others. I’m taking this home with me.” Eddie insisted, pulling the record back to him.  _

_ “You don’t even have a record player!”  _

_ “I don’t care! It’s mine and I am taking it!” _

_ “Why are you being such a bitch?” Richie shouted, frustration clear in his voice.  _

_ “Why are you trying to suck up to Bowers? What, are you bored or something? You want some new super cool friends?” The other sounded pissed and crushed at the same time; like disappointed.  _

_ “Of course not!” Richie snapped. “Yeah he’s cool but it’s not because I am bored with you! How could I be? You’re my best friend!”  _

_ “Oh fuck you!” Eddie finally settled, getting tired of arguing.  _

_ “What the hell did I do now?!” _

_ “We are more than  _ best friends _ , asshole!” He spat out, not thinking about it until the words were already out.  _

_ Richie was quietly for a second. They hadn’t talked about anything like this. No labels or anything. They were just two friends who held hands and shared kisses. But friends didn’t do that. _

_ “Oh,” Richie muttered quietly. “Right.”  _

_ “Right?” Eddie mimicked. “Right?! You’re ridiculous!”  _

_ Eddie stood, turning to stomp back up the stairs and leave the Tozier residence, record in hand. Richie reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling the shorter back into him.  _

_ “You’re right. You’re more than just my best friend okay?” Richie murmured, getting softer as he stared down at his... friend?  _

_ “What am I then?” Eddie challenged.  _

_ Right. They’d have to put some effort into this; choose an accurate label. Richie adjusted his glasses, thinking it over.  _

_ “You’re my boyfriend.” He decided.  _

_ “Oh?” Eddie asked pausing. _

_ “Yeah! And I’m yours! We’re boyfriends and no cool guy with nice hair is going to change that.”  _

_ “His hair isn’t that cool.” Eddie scoffed, glancing to the side.  _

_ “You’re right. It’s rock hard. Yours is so much better,” Richie said, pulling Eddie in to kiss his cheek.  _

_ Eddie laughed softly, shoving him away. “Oh shut up.” _

“It was special, wasn’t it?” Richie said softly, smiling just as gentle. “Even being that young. We had a great time together.” 

At Bev’s smirk, Richie raised his hand and shook his head. “Not like that! We were children!” He rushed to say. “Jesus, you should be in jail,” he joked. 

“You know, up until now, you’re still the best boyfriend I’ve ever had,” Eddie interrupted them before downing the rest of his wine. 

That was when Ben cleared his throat and stood up, looking over at Beverly. “Shall we go? I’ll drop you off. I think we should leave these two alone,” he said with a smirk. 

“You know we can hear you, right?” Richie asked. 

“Oh, I know. Dinner’s on me guys, enjoy your new chance.” Ben winked and offered Bev his hand to help her stand up -- damn him for being such a caring human -- and they both walked away from their table. 

“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all,” the journalist finally said. 

“You can say that again, Trashmouth,” the other replied with a chuckle. “I meant what I said though. What we had… it was special, even though we didn’t even reach second base.”

“We were kids, Eds. You were a germaphobe, who, by a miracle, let me kiss you. And we were in a homophobic town. We were lucky.”

“Yeah, we were lucky,” Eddie murmured with a little sigh. “And I’m sure we didn’t even realize it until it was snatched from us.”

“Eds, what happened?” Richie asked softly. “Where did you go?”

“I’m not sure I can tell you about that tonight. But I will at some point. I promise.”

Richie just nodded and finished the rest of his wine. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I,” Eddie swore, keeping his eyes on Richie’s.

“And hey. Here is to new beginnings, right? You’re alive and doing pretty fucking well.” 

Eddie laughed at that and called over the waiter, ordering them some champagne. “You’re right, Rich. I’m alive and kicking. And you still got the same jokes. We’re back to when we were kids.” 

“Hey! I got new jokes, thank you very much.” Richie protested. 

“Sure, whatever you say, big guy.” He passed him one of the glasses and raised his own. “To the past, which never left, and to the future, which was gifted to us once again.”

They shared the toast, staring at each other’s eyes. It was a promise and they didn’t need to say anything else. They just knew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Maroon 5 song chosen for this chapter is one of my absolute favorites and if you haven't listened to it, please check it out. It works so perfectly for It Chapter 2, it almost makes me mad.
> 
> Please tell us what you thought down below. We crave your words.


	9. Sweet Dreams - Eurythmics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was Christmas a week ago? Yes. Am I posting the Christmas chapter now, on New Year's Eve? Yes. Will I be posting the New Years' Eve chapter in a week? Probably. Enjoy!

**_Some of them want to use you_ **   
**_Some of them want to get used by you_ **   
**_Some of them want to abuse you_ **   
**_Some of them want to be abused._ **

**_Sweet dreams are made of this_ **   
**_Who am I to disagree?_ **   
**_I travel the world_ **   
**_And the seven seas_ **   
**_Everybody's looking for something_ **

Richie didn’t know why he had to be such a good person. Honestly. Who the fuck raised him to be like this? Yeah, his parents were amazing and always taught him to have great values and shit, but come on! He grew up in a small town that was judgemental as all hell. Shouldn’t he have grown up to be a cold-hearted bastard like someone in a Hallmark movie before falling in love with Christmas again? Or maybe like the Grinch. But less green. 

It was all Ben’s fault. He had overshot how long it would take to get Eddie’s house in order. He thought that by New Years they’d be finished but because he was such a fucking professional and perfectionist, he wanted to continue till January with the new floor plan. Which was fine! Do what you gotta do. He couldn’t force his team to work during the fucking holidays, but come on! This was a person home they were working on. Put some overtime in. 

Eddie, having expected to be able to move into his new place, gave up his room at the fancy-schmancy hotel he was staying at. No big deal because he could easily just get another except wait -- no he couldn’t -- because they were all booked. Merry holiday season, y’all!

The place was super popular during the final weeks of the year and every fucking rich person on the planet wanted to stay by the beach. Fucking California. 

Eddie mentioned offhand that he was staying on Beverly’s couch while trying to pick a place to stay. He had countless hotels to choose from, but it just sounded so shitty. Like Christmas was days away and he was going to either be on a couch or in a hotel room.

And to top it off Beverly and Ben had begun seeing one another. Fucking heterosexuals and their fast-paced romances. Seriously, this was like a fucking Hallmark movie. 

Of course, Richie wasn’t a terrible friend and didn’t want to see his good old buddy celebrating their former favorite holiday alone in a hotel suite or on the couch while listening to his other best friend bump uglies with the guy building his dream house. 

So he extended his own little space to Eddie. He had a spare bedroom that he had set up to use as an office except he never got anything to make it an office. No desk or like, actual chairs or anything. He instead chose to sit on the couch in his boxers with his laptop hot on his dick while writing his reports. There was a bed in there that no one used because he didn’t ever have guests to stay, not even his parents. So it was just there collecting dust, waiting for the right body to sleep upon it.

And it seemed that body would belong to none other than Edward Franklin Kaspbrak. 

It started fine. Eddie only had two suitcases, which is laughably small considering that when they were kids, Eddie would always bring a whole duffle bag over for one night. He said he had all his actual stuff in storage, waiting for the move, while the suitcases were his actual clothes. 

The guest room was just that. A simple room with a bed and light switch. Nothing crazy fancy. You’d probably find more in a hotel, but it worked out fine for them. He gave Eddie free range to his apartment, so he could go in and out -he gave him a key and everything-, sit on the couch and watch TV, or mess around with his Street Fighter arcade game he had in the corner. He could eat whatever he wanted as he could honestly do whatever he wanted. 

And that was fine. He wasn’t a bother. He wasn’t intruding. And to be honest, Richie kind of liked having someone around. He was undeniably lonely and it felt good to be able to talk to someone when he woke up and after he got home from work. Eddie had his schedule to follow, constantly visiting the recording studio to work on that album. 

They’d have coffee in the morning and then catch up at night. It was nice. It was comfortable. 

But Richie was only human and having Eddie around was making it hard for him. 

Literally. 

Eddie would sleep in his boxers sometimes which was fucking killing Richie because his body was ripped, and toned, and he had tattoos. And if he did wear pajamas, those were fucking adorable too. Like, how could someone look so adorable and hot at the same time? It just didn’t fucking work out in Richie’s mind. 

Wasn’t even like Eddie was doing anything obnoxiously sexy either. Wasn’t doing fucking naked push-ups in the kitchen or lifting weights. He was just existing and that was enough to drive Richie wild. 

Maybe he was just pent up. He had been a very long time since he last got laid. Maybe the slightest thing would send him off. 

And then it happened. 

It was cold, even for California. Richie didn’t normally put the heat up because again, it was California, but this time of year was unpredictable and of course, when they needed the heat to work, it didn’t. The guy was gonna come around the following morning to fix it so they were left to freeze for the night. 

Richie didn’t mind it so much, but Eddie was a fucking pint-sized diva, just like he always had been and couldn’t handle it. He came out of his room, going to sit on the opposite side of the couch where Richie was working. He was using the throw blanket, still shivering like a fucking chihuahua. Eventually, he realized he couldn’t take it anymore and went to grab some more clothes. He entered and when he did Richie nearly spit his coffee out. He was wearing pajama pants and hoodie, which shouldn’t be that exciting, except for the not minor fact that it was Richie’s hoodie. 

How the actual  _ fuck _ does someone make a  _ hoodie _ look sexy!?

Richie still doesn’t have an answer, but he wound up storming from the living room and going to take a cold shower because no fucking way was he going to jerk it to the image of Eddie in his head while Eddie was still in the apartment. 

After that, he forced himself to just live with it. Not like he could kick him out. What could he say?  _ Apologies comrade, but the living situation is not working in my favor as I find myself longing to be inside of you and also to have you inside of me!  _

Yeah no, wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t all bad. Sure, he had serious blue balls, but he also had his best friend back and it felt good. They hung out when they could and that felt good too. Richie was quickly realizing that this Eddie was still the same kid he knew and loved. 

They both still wanted their cereal to be simple and their drinks to be sweet. They had the undying need for vanilla ice cream even when it was cold as hell outside, and both found it necessary to kick Richie while they were on the couch together to get his attention. 

Of course, it was always going to drive him crazy to know that his little rambling germaphobe was this punk rock star legend in the making, but what could you do? You can’t have Eddie without Dr. K and there was no Dr. K without Eddie. They weren’t two different people. This wasn’t multiple personality issues. 

Eddie and Dr. K were the same dude and Richie was just going to have to live with that. It was a little jarring, but he’d survive it. Somehow. 

They had gotten comfortable with one another and their living situation after a week, leading up to Christmas. The magazine had just been released so work was easy. Richie didn’t have to go to the office as much, allowing him time to hang out with Eddie outside of the recording studio. 

It was a few days until Christmas when Eddie brought up putting up the tree. He was asking Richie if they were gonna buy a real one or if Richie had one of those plastic ones, but Richie admitted he didn’t do either. 

It was just him alone. No pet. No significant other. He didn’t have any presents to put under the tree so it would be kind of pointless. 

Christmas was a very lonely time for Richie Tozier, okay? 

But not anymore it seemed.

Eddie put his foot down and within an hour, they had a tree delivered to his doorstep. Richie didn’t even know you could do that but he guessed in the Hollywood life anything was possible. 

Beautiful spruce was set up in his living room and the whole place smelled like pine. He looked forward to sweeping up the needles for the next few days. 

They didn’t have any ornaments so Eddie began buying some on Amazon Prime for Drone delivery all the while Richie called up his mom to see if she had anything. Anything that she would have been interested in giving him had already been given, so into space in the closet, they went and out came a box full of old shit from his old house. 

There were little things. Tiny awards he had done for school and art projects he had done. An ornament or two that his mom had given him because they were just too ugly or pathetic to be on the tree at his parent's house. 

One was of a surfer dude riding a wave that he had brought home after his first year at college. It was stupid and dated, but he deserved to be on his tree. The second had been music Elvis ornament that still worked, so that was being put up. And the third . . . well, Richie didn’t make the third one. 

Eddie did. 

They had the same art class and had been working with clay and paint for that lesson. They were meant to make ornaments for a project and while Richie made one of his parents, Eddie made one for Richie. He gave it to him for their first official Christmas as a secret couple. It was a snowman, but not an ordinary snowman. Oh no, this wasn’t a run in the mill's Frosty motherfucker. 

This guy had glasses and a Hawaiian shirt on. It was rad. 

His mom thought it was the tackiest thing, but Richie? Fuck, he was in love. 

Eddie gave him the ornament and Richie decided to bedazzle one of Eddie’s old inhalers. His mom thought it was horrible because she thought it was Richie making fun of Eddie’s illness, but Eddie seemed to like it. 

It was a good memory for them both and it was nice to see the ornament was still in good shape. They put it up on top, next to some of the more classic ornaments that Eddie bought. Rather than putting an angel on top as they used to at his house, Richie just stuck a picture of Dr. K up, smirking when Eddie asked him what the was doing. 

“Putting a star on top of the tree man! Can’t fault on the tradition!” 

That got him a smack upside the head. In the end, they decided to take Dr. K down and put both a star and an angel on top of the tree. 

Baby Yoda. 

So with that, plus the ornaments, and all the lights, Richie was sure that was the best tree he ever had since he moved to California. Not only did it look pretty, but there were fucking presents underneath. Like, actual fucking gifts. 

Eddie got him something so of course, he had to get Eddie something too. They wrapped them together, hiding what each gift was and put them under the tree until Christmas morning rolled around. 

They started the day off lazily. Waking in the late morning and sitting on the couch as they drank their coffee, watching the Muppets Christmas carol. Eddie was mentioning how his home would have a fireplace and the walk-in was huge and he’d have a grand staircase. He was imagining the look of having one of those twenty-foot trees you’d see in old catalogs and shit. 

It would be the wealthy, cookie-cutter Christmas that both of them had been denied as kids. Sure, it was just a fantasy, but Richie was sure that a year from now, Eddie would have just that. The tree, the house, the lifestyle he deserves. 

And Richie will be here with his cramped apartment and zero Christmas tree. 

Maybe he’ll get a dog or something. 

Maybe. 

When they finally did decide to open presents it was later in the day when they were discussing what to have for dinner. Richie didn’t buy anything to make so there wouldn’t be any home-cooked ham. They were debating if they were gonna do Indian or Italian but then they got into the discussion on whether or not it’s better or worse to order out. 

Like yeah they were giving the workers money and they’d tip the delivery guy but ordering would feed into the belief that those places needed to be open on a holiday. It’s like shopping on Thanksgiving; all you’re doing is feeding into the corporations but at the same time, if they’re open they’re paying their employee's good money to be there. 

It was a win-lose situation. 

They decided to go with Chinese and ordered way too fucking munch but who cared! There would always be room for Chinese!

They opened their presents while waiting for delivery. They sat on the floor and handed it off while Richie had music playing in the background. He more or less avoided all holiday music up to this point but he was fine with good old Blue Eyes singing about white Christmases and shit. 

Richie watched with anticipation as Eddie opened his gift. It was nothing special, to be honest. A hoodie one size bigger than he’d need, with wool lining and the word “Spaghetti” scribbled across the back. 

It made Eddie laugh and shaking his head at the same time. “You realize if Buzzfeed sees this they’ll probably make a whole article about it.” 

“I sure hope they do! I wanna see this on the season finale of Buzzfeed: Unsolved!” 

Eddie just chuckled along and passed Richie his gift. “I hope you like it. It wasn’t easy to get. I had to sweet talk a couple of people.” 

Richie knew what it was right away. He had been the owner of a decent record collection long enough to know the feeling of one in his hands. He tore off a strip of the wrapping and his heart jumped into his throat when he saw the familiar color scheme of the album cover. 

He had never been able to get his hands on a copy of this. The truth was it didn’t do that great in America and he was lucky to even get a second-hand edition of the CD though even then it was scratched to shit. Still, the album was fantastic. It changed Richie as a person. 

He ripped away the rest of the paper, smiling down when he looked over the back of the record. All the songs have listened and Richie found himself running his finger over one song in particular. He had fond memories of dancing to that in his basement, trying so very hard to impress the boy of his dreams. 

“This is amazing Eds. I love it.” 

Eddie sat across from him, a large grin across his face. There was an odd glimmer in his eyes that Richie just couldn’t place. “Turn it over.” He replied. 

Richie did just that, coming back to face with the album cover. The four colors and the drawn faces of the band members greeted him but there was more. Names in scripture.

But not just any names and not just any scripture. 

Signatures. 

In each box of each member, there was a signature. Richie knew those names anywhere and threw the record onto his coffee table as if he had been burnt.

“No!” Richie almost screamed. 

“Yes.” 

“That’s fucking impossible.” 

“It’s not,” Eddie answered. “I know a guy.” 

“How the fuck does this guy have this album?!” 

“The guy I know knows another guy that used to work in the music industry. He had a bunch of signed shit. I was able to haggle this off of him. Turns out he’s a sweetheart and when I mentioned that this would make you cream your jeans he gave it to be for a good price,” Eddie explained with a little shit-eating grin. 

“Is it…” Richie knelt forward, looking at the album once more, scared to even touch it. “Is it signed by all four of them?”

“Dr. Brian May. Roger Taylor. Freddie Mercury. And John Richard Deacon, born-”

“August the 19th, 1951.” Richie completed, leaning back on his knees, his hands coming to cup his mouth. 

He honestly thought he would cry. Openly weep right there in front of his best friend and apparent crush. 

“You got me  _ Hot Space _ . A signed copy and all I got you was a fucking personalized hoodie.” Richie deadpanned. “Jesus fuck Eddie.” 

“It’s not a competition, Rich.” 

“Fucking feels like it is. Christ. I feel like I should suck your dick or something.” 

There was a knock on the door then, breaking the tension between them. “Maybe another time,” Eddie said, going to answer the door. 

Richie lifted the album carefully, his fingers cradling it ever so slightly. He pulled it in close, holding it to his chest, hugging it into himself. He would never treat anything as carefully as he was going to treat this record. Fuck, he would kill precious Baby Yoda for it. 

Eddie returned with his arms full of Chinese food, and they sat together on the floor as the record played on; the sweet sounds of Queen filling the airway as they celebrated the final moments of Christmas together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOUT OUT TO ANYONE FROM THE QUEEN FANDOM! 
> 
> Honest to God, Hot Space by Queen would be Richie Tozier's favorite Queen album; I will not be taking criticism at this time. 
> 
> Please check out Hot Space, but most importantly, check out Dancer from Hot Space because LORD does it slap.


	10. Every Breath You Take - The Police

**_Since you've gone I've been lost without a trace_ **   
**_I dream at night, I can only see your face_ **   
**_I look around but it's you I can't replace_ **   
**_I feel so cold and I long for your embrace_ **   
**_I keep crying, "Baby, baby, please"_ **

Everybody expected the magazine to be a hit, but nobody thought it was going to blow up the way it did. 

The world seemed to explode at the idea of Dr. K going off on his own. Rumors had been flying around, but rather than finding out straight from the mouth of the beast or even TMZ, he released it publicly through Paper Boat. 

Not Twitter or Instagram. Through a physical copy of a magazine. How old fashioned could you be? 

Sales were through a fucking roof and Bill couldn’t be happier. He worked hard, but there was no denying that the man loved money so very much. And so did Richie. He worked hard on the article and wanted nothing more than to get the absolute truth out. No puff pieces. No fun games. 

Just him and Dr. K being as candid as possible. 

He was proud of it. Prouder than he should have been. He would write more and do more, but it was the first time he was proud of his work. He blamed it on writing about someone he was comfortable with. About his friend. About his idol. 

There was more to Dr. K than anyone saw, even more than Richie could see, and he tried to break into that and it seemed people were happy about it. 

And some people were unhappy about it. Obviously. 

News outlets, at least the ones who covered music, were going berserk. It was the end of an era and it seemed everybody was pointing fingers. Some were saying Dr. K was finally released from his contract while others speculated that he bought his way out. Some were canceling him for abandoning the band that made him who he was, while others were praising him for finally breaking away and doing his own thing. 

Regardless of who was saying what, Eddie didn’t seem to give a damn. He had Beverly running his twitter and Instagram, posting nothing more than a promotional post about the album that would be drumming New Years Day. Other than that, he didn’t pay much attention to it. 

“I’m used to this sort of thing, to be honest,” Eddie admitted over coffee. 

They met up with Bill to go over the numbers. It seemed they’d all be paid handsomely, though that was nothing new to Eddie. It seemed he was being offered a lot of big numbers if he agreed to do interviews. Fallon, Kelly and Ryan, Good Morning America. Anybody and everybody wanted him though he just shrugged it all off. Only Paper Boat and mainly Richie were the only ones worthy of Dr. K.

“The album will do well. My fans will buy it and those who hate me will be tweeting all about it. Not the first time I’ve been canceled,” Eddie shrugged. “All publicity is good publicity in the end.”

“Isn’t this like your third time?” Richie inquired. “You’re very cancelable, Eds.” 

“Probably won’t be the last either,” Bill mentioned. “What can I say? Canceling is an honor on this day and age.” 

“I’ve said my peace. If they want to say I killed the music industry, then so be it. I’m a punk rocker. I’ve been killing the music industry since I joined the music industry.” 

“How very Ramones of you.” Richie quipped with a smirk. 

Eddie could only smile, leaning back in his chair. “My band members and I want what is best for us. We’re allowed to be selfish. But, if they wanna make me out to be the villain, then I am the villain. I’ll be their Darth Vader. I’ll be their Joker. I’ll be whoever they want me to be. That’s what I already am, right? Their puppet? Their plaything?” 

“Not anymore, dude.” Richie insisted.

Eddie was on his own now. He had a brand new world ahead of him. No one was going to push him into a box or put the baby in a corner. Dr. K was running the show now. 

“I think I just had an amazing idea,” Bill mentioned suddenly. “They want to make you the bad guy, right? What if we do just that?” 

Richie raised a brow over his glasses, his coffee hanging loosely in his hand. “Come again?” 

“Look, you said it yourself, Eddie. They’re making you the villain, the Darth Vader of the music industry. The Joker.” Bill was smirking and had a glint of determination in his eyes; Richie knew that one very well. “Let’s show you as the villain that killed the music industry in a photoshoot. We can make it a web exclusive.”

Both Richie and Eddie leaned back over the table, interested in the idea. 

“And when do we do it?” Eddie finally asked, matching Bill’s smirk. 

  
  
  


The shoot took place the next morning at Paper Boat’s studio and they settled that no one outside their inner circle would be called to help. Too many leaks could happen now that Dr. K was in everybody’s mouths. 

They all gathered too early for Richie’s desire, but what could he do? Just miss the provocative shoot that was gonna make everyone go bat shit crazy? Nope. So he just showed up with Eddie -they lived together, no point in showing up in two cars- and stayed on the side, chugging coffee after coffee. 

Eddie and Bill spent the first hour revising the different sets that they had discussed the previous day before the musician was sent off to makeup and wardrobe; this shoot was going to need more of that. 

Bill took Richie out of his trance of admiring a potted plant by patting his shoulder. “Rich, I need you to go get ready.”

The writer frowned and took a second to think about those words. “Ready? Ready for what?”

“Eddie didn’t tell you? You’re gonna be in the shoot. He requested you to be part of it,” Bill explained as if it were the most normal thing in the world. 

“He did what? No. No Bill, I can’t. I’m no model material and you know it. I can’t do it.” Richie was backtracking now, shaking his head. 

“Are you gonna disappoint Eddie?”

Oh, that was low. That was the lowest of the low and Bill knew it. He knew how to play to get what he wanted. 

“I hate you, Denbrough.”

“Good! That means I’m doing my job. So go join Dr. K in makeup and then we’ll see what we can do for you two,” the other said with a smirk and walked off to talk to his brother about the lighting. 

Richie downed his coffee -wishing he had put some liquor in it- and headed the same direction he saw Eddie go. 

“I hate you. Just so you know,” Richie grumbled as he sat down next to the rock star, who was sporting a smirk. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rich. Why are you here?”

“Oh shut up. You know I’m no picture material. Why the hell do you want me ruining your pictures?” He huffed as they stylist started working on his hair. 

“Because it’s fun! Come on, Rich. Your face isn’t gonna show in the pics. You’ll make me so happy,” he admitted, glancing over at him. “I want to share this with you, please.”

Richie groaned and nodded. “Fine. But only cause I can’t say no to those puppy eyes.”

Eddie grinned triumphantly and let the makeup artist do her work. “Oh, I brought your contacts, by the way. So you can lose your glasses.”

“You thought about everything, didn’t you?” Richie sighed and grabbed the little case his friend passed him. “Do I have to shave as well?” He asked, rolling his eyes as he took his glasses off and advanced himself into putting on those dangerous things called contacts -one might think that Richie had a lot of practice but no… he usually stabbed himself with his finger when he tried to put them on. 

Once he was done and his hair was somewhat managed, he was rushed to wardrobe and put into simple dark jeans and a white shirt. But the shirt wasn’t so simple though, it had the “music industry” painted in black across its back. It made a statement of some sorts, Richie didn’t know about it, but knowing Eddie, he was going to make something bold and spectacular. 

He didn’t wait for his friend to be ready, instead, he marched back to set and went to Bill for answers. 

“Look, I cannot tell you. But you’re gonna love it, believe me,” the man replied with a smirk. 

Eddie came in sight and Richie choked on air. One thing was to see him in a suit through a phone or computer screen, and another completely different was to see him in the flesh. All black suit, first buttons of the shirt undone… but why was he holding the tie in his hand?

“Okay, everyone. We’re ready to go,” Georgie said from behind the camera. “Eddie, Richie, please stand there and position yourself, I’ll arrange you after.”

The writer followed Eddie to the white backdrop and looked at him expectantly. 

“Get on your knees,” Eddie said as nonchalant as if he were asking what day it was. 

“Excuse me, what?”

“On your knees, facing me, Trashmouth. I need your back on the picture,” he explained. And Richie slowly got down to his knees. Not how he imagined being getting on his knees for Eddie but nothing in his life turned out to be like he wanted to. 

“This might be a bit too much, but I’m gonna have to choke you with the tie,” the musician explained. 

“What the fuck man? Is this some kind of twisted joke? Cause if it is, I’m gonna kick you out of my fucking apartment,” Richie exclaimed, looking up at his friend. 

“No! No! You see… everyone said I’m killing the music industry and all that bullshit. You are the music industry and I’m killing you. Makes sense?” Eddie rushed to explain. 

Okay, yeah. It made a lot of sense and it was genius but why him? Why did he have to be on his knees, on a level with Eddie’s dick? He had to play it cool though cause there were like ten other people around. 

“Fine, okay, choke me, Dr. K,” he finally said with a little huff. 

“I waited my whole life to hear you say that,” Eddie teased and wrapped the tie carefully around Richie’s neck. 

And well, Richie was only mortal. The ungodly things he imagined while the other secured the tie around him. No one had to know. 

“Okay, guys, lighting’s perfect. I just need you to tilt your head up a bit, Rich, and Dr. K you can either look at the camera or down at Richie. Maybe both and we can pick later,” Georgie instructed as he checked his camera again. 

Richie looked up and swallowed hard as Eddie was already looking down at him, a smirk on his lips. And fuck. Richie was a goner, could you blame him? He had to think about a lot of stuff to prevent his dick to make an appearance: he went from his mom to Eddie’s mom, to Jabba the Hutt and fucking Klingons. 

The scene itself was out of a fucking porn movie and there was Richie, not used to being in photoshoots, on his knees for his childhood sweetheart and then turned celebrity crush, looking down at him with so much lust and desire; someone should give him an Oscar for that performance. 

But then, Eddie glanced up at the camera and everything was gone. Yes, he was still being choked and from everyone’s angle it looked like he was sucking Dr. K off, but whatever they shared at that moment, was lost. And Richie was kinda glad it did, if not, he would be harder than he was. 

“I think we got it!” Georgie exclaimed, obviously excited for this new approach. “Shall we prepare everything for the next round?”

“Next round?” Richie asked as his friend removed the tie from around his neck and helped him get up. 

“Yeah, we got a couple more sets of pictures to make. And they involve you again. Don’t worry, your face won’t show. Besides, that’s now what interests me at the moment,” he smirked and glanced down briefly before winking and walking off. 

How can someone be so cruel and teasing? He hated it. Hated it so much that he couldn’t just shut him up with a kiss or- wow! Stop there, Tozier, you don’t want to go down that path.

Everything was settled around him and he hopped onto the stretcher as instructed, waiting for Eddie to come back as he was strapped down and explained what he needed to do for the shoot. 

“At least I’m practicing for my future,” he joked as the musician came back to stand next to him. The same suit, the only different thing is that the tie was now neatly done around his neck and he was wearing black latex gloves, holding up a syringe with a red liquid. 

“You went crazy with this concept, didn’t you?” Richie asked with a smirk. 

“As I said, I’m killing music so might as well do it all the way,” he explained. “You okay there?”

“Just peachy. Whenever you’re ready Georgie,” the writer called out.

As soon as the photographer started doing his job around them, Richie tugged at the restraints while Eddie just did his thing, eye fucking the camera, for then, go back to eye-fucking Richie. It was literal torture. Was that real anesthesia on Eddie’s syringe? Because he needed it.

They were done in less than twenty minutes and they were ready for the next shot. This was easy, Richie thought but he saw Bill walking over with the makeup artist, the same mischievous expression on his face. 

“I don’t like that look on you, Denbrough. What else do you two get for me?” Richie asked as he sat upon the stretcher. 

The woman approached him and took out a red lipstick. “She’s gonna apply it and smear it. Same on my lips,” Eddie explained, sitting next to him. 

“People are gonna go crazy,” Bill commented. 

“That’s the idea,” the musician smirked. 

“I’d say that it’s the first time I wore lipstick but I’d be lying,” Richie said after the woman was done with his lips. 

“That’s a story you’ll have to tell me later, Trashmouth.” Eddie laughed before he got his lipstick ready. 

“You don’t wanna hear that story. I was there, it was pure drunk chaos,” Bill interrupted. “You tell him the last bit, Dr. K.”

“We’re gonna cover all your kinks, Rich.” Eddie took his tie off again and gently wrapped it around Richie’s eyes. And yeah, Richie was going to need a long cold shower after all this. 

“You promised my face wouldn’t show. I don’t trust any of you anymore, traitors.” Richie huffed before both stood up and the writer was put in place. 

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out,” Eddie instructed. 

“I thought you rejected my idea of porn in the magazine, Bill. What happened?” He joked before doing what was told. He felt something sweet being placed on his tongue and he frowned. 

“This is something I usually don’t say but... don't swallow, Richie,” he heard Eddie say from behind him as he felt a hand being placed on his shoulder. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but he trusted Eddie in this. And if he needed to make a statement, so be it. 

After a little bit, he was finally allowed to close his mouth, swallow the candy and free his eyes from the darkness. “Wanna check these last ones out? They turned out so cool.” Georgie asked as he walked over with his camera to show him. And wow, yeah, now he got it. Those shots were perfect. Richie with the pill that said Dr. K and Dr. K himself lurking behind him. This photoshoot was gonna be a hit, he just knew it. 

“One more and we’re done everybody,” Georgie announced with a grin. 

Eddie took a lollipop out of his jacket’s pocket and unwrapped it. “You were such a good boy, Richie. You deserve this,” he said with a smirk. And yeah, Richie choked on-air, which made Eddie laugh. “Open up, Rich. The last shot and we can go.”

The write nodded and opened his mouth so that Eddie could stick the lollipop in his mouth and Georgie could snap the pictures. 

“Well done everyone, I think we got it!” The photographer announced as he checked the pictures on the screen. 

Eddie winked and took the lollipop, putting it in his mouth. “Well done, Trashmouth, maybe you’ll have a model career after that,” he teased. 

Richie snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Hopefully, they will never find my social media. The last thing I need is a bunch of fangirls finding my [**Instagram**](https://www.instagram.com/the.richietozier/?igshid=4u64clfq1u60)." 

“That’s all, guys, you can leave now. We can handle the rest,” Bill told them before walking back to his brother to talk whatever an editor talked with a photographer. 

Eddie and Richie sat together in the corner, tossing makeup after makeup wipe into the trash as they took off their makeup. 

“Is it always like this?” Richie asked. “Photoshoots and shit?” 

“Bill and Georgie are a little more relaxed but for the most part, basically the same bullshit. Focus on my assets. Glam me up. Eyeliner and shit. Everybody likes to focus on the pretty boy.” 

A tinge of guilt hit Richie right in the stomach when he realized he was one of the people who used to flock to get the magazines and posters. Anything with his face on it, not caring about the hell Eddie had to go through to make it happen. 

“Hey so, Paper Boat throws a New Year's Eve party every year.” He mentioned, deciding to change the subject. “I’m sure you have something else to do but if you’re free.” 

“My label is throwing a party to celebrate the launch of the album,” Eddie admitted. “But it’s pretty early. More of a dinner type thing. I could swing by afterward?”

“Only if you want to. Otherwise, I would catch you back at my place. I’ll probably be at the party a good while but the rooftop of the office building has a pretty decent view of the city. You can see the whole firework show from there.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Eddie mentioned, tossing the final makeup wipe once his face was clean. “Ready to head back? We could grab food on the way. I’ve been dying to try that dumpling place.” 

With his face clean and thoroughly moisturized, Richie grabbed his jacket and sling it over his shoulder, following the shorter male out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did we really make an Instagram for Richie? Yes, yes we did. Please click the link in the fic and follow him. He post many things from himself and Dr. K. 
> 
> Also please tell us what you think! Seriously, we live for comments and it only takes a literal second to say your peace.


	11. I Don't Want To Let You Go - Weezer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Years one week late? Ahhh who cares. The slow burn has finally come to an end. 
> 
> Sort of.

**_I remember the days when I was stronger than a wall  
Try as anybody might, they couldn't move me at all  
Now I fall to pieces when you softly call my name  
Going up in smoke rings like a moth within your flame  
I have lost all hope of being normal once again  
I will be a slave to you until the bitter end  
Even if it's a hundred years before you change your mind  
I will be here waiting boy until the end of time_ **

Richie had never been a huge fan of New Year’s Eve. So much was expected. It was the end of the year and you were meant to both reflect and celebrate. Bring on new challenges and stuck to that whole ‘new year, new me’ bullshit that everyone posted about. You drink a lot, and eat a lot, and count down with Dick Clark and his Rocking Eve until you finally get to zero and find someone pretty to kiss. 

Richie never had anybody pretty to kiss. He wasn’t good at romance and romantic holidays just weren’t his forte. 

Valentine’s Day was a fucking nightmare and he wasn’t going to join in on the hate. He knew there was more to it than the commercial bullshit. He wasn’t a cynical bastard, he was just lonely. And he was lonely tonight too. 

Even when he was surrounded by people he knew. 

Sure, most of them were coworkers, but he got along with them well enough. He cared about them for the most part, even if a handful of them made him crazy. 

He dressed accordingly. It was a very chill environment. Bill always dressed as professional as possible, but so long as you didn't come in looking like a slob, it was fine. And on most days, he was fine. He wore graphic tees and his hair was wild, but his jeans were always clean. 

What he wore now was closer to a suit, which felt closer to sunburn than anything. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world and he didn’t even bother with the tie. Dress pants and dress shirt that was mostly buttoned. He had a nice jacket to go with it. His hair was combed and he got a new pair of glasses for Christmas from his parents. 

He looked nice, that much was obvious. 

But looking nice and feeling nice were two completely different things. 

Richie felt like a kid playing dress-up. 

It was like this every year. He’d put on nice clothes and made his way to the office. He’d find his little group, which was usually Bill -- is wife — and Georgie. He grabbed a champagne flute and enjoyed the decorations that Bill paid for. 

Paper Boat did extraordinary this year and Bill was pleased. He wasn’t a lush but he allowed himself to drink and enjoy the party, all while greeting his employees and thanking them endlessly for all the hard work they did. He gave out their Christmas bonuses the week before, which was lumped into Richie’s savings account. 

He had been working on saving upon . . . he didn’t know, to be honest. A new car? A new place? A vacation? He didn’t know. He was just letting the money grow and grow until something finally snapped inside of him and he decided to spend it. 

Richie was about two flutes down when a hand landed on his shoulder. It belonged to Mike, the music expert at the magazine. He wrote an expose on Trashmouth a few pages into Eddie’s issue. Mike was fine with not having the full expose, deciding that he was more interested in speaking to the rest of the band rather than just the frontman. 

“I thought you quit smoking?” He asked. 

Richie had found his way outside, standing along the alleyway. He used to creep out there to smoke a cigarette, but that was long ago. Now he was just looking for some privacy until it got late enough and he could leave. 

“Just needed some air, man,” Richie explained, offering a faux grin. “Your wife is looking good Mikey. She’s taking the pregnancy well?” 

“As well as a woman carrying twins has? I swear, she’s like a fucking marine. Pukes her brains out and then carries on like its nothing. I got a cold a few weeks ago and I felt like I was on my deathbed.” 

“Women. They’re beasts.” He mentioned, taking the finishing swig of his flute. 

“Your exposé was good, you know. I was impressed.” Mike mentioned after a beat. “Also saw the pictures Bill plans on uploading this week. Certainly interesting.” 

“The things we do for our idols.” Richie mused playfully, pushing off the far wall. He patted his hand down for his phone but found his pocket empty. He swore quietly, realizing he left it at his cubby. “Fuck. Do you have the time?” 

“It’s time for you to get a big boy watch, Rich.” 

“It’s time for you to write new jokes, Mike. What time is it?” 

Mike paused, lifting his wrist so he could read the numbers. “Little after ten.” 

“Christ. Two more hours of this shit.” Richie groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Well, aren’t you the social butterfly.” Mike laughed, following Richie back inside. 

The music was playing and their coworkers were chattering, but it wasn’t leisurely was they were before. They were surrounding Bill, who was huddled in close next to a few other people. Mike made his way closer, curious about what they missed while Richie went off to his cubby, snatching his phone up and checking the messages. 

He missed a few from his parents and his sister. One from Beverly and then finally, a good handful from Eddie. 

The other man had promised to try to make it, though Richie didn’t want him to leave his album launch party just to come to a freaking magazine NYE party. He had his own life to live and he didn’t want the other guy to try and adapt to the life they’ve begun molding together. 

They would catch up later and soon enough, Eddie would be in his big beautiful mansion and Richie would be alone all over again. 

Fuck, he needed to get a cat or something. Maybe a goldfish. How hard could they be? Just gotta feed them right? If Richie could feed himself surely he could feed a fish. 

“There you are,” A feminine voice called out. Richie turned to see Audra making his way over to his cubby. She was making her way over, speaking to another person that Richie recognized anywhere. “Leave it to Richie to hide away and do work while at a party.” 

“Interesting. He doesn’t seem like the type.” Beverly mentioned, smiling as she raised her wine glass. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I was invited to. Well, it was sort of an invite from an invite. See, you invited Dr. K and then he invited me. And of course, I invited Ben,” She gestured over Richie’s shoulder. He turned to see Ben speaking to a small group of Paper Boat employees, going into great detail over something incredibly boring, he was sure. “Regardless, we were welcomed with open arms and now we’re drinking, so that alone is better than the party we just left.” 

“Wait, he’s here?” 

Beverly looked to Audra and the two women chuckled softly together. “Well duh. You invited him!” 

Richie reached the floor, his eyes finally zooming on the man in question. He was dressed to impress, like always. Black tee with the logo of his solo album, under a dress jacket, tight jeans, and combed back hair. He was gorgeous, like always and it made Richie feel sick to his stomach. He grabbed a nearby flute, downing it quickly as Eddie caught his attention. 

“Rich! Hey buddy.” He pushed away from the circle he had found himself in and came around to where Richie was standing. “Some shindig huh?” He asked brightly taking the moment to run his eyes over Richie’s person. “Nice outfit.” 

“You left your launch party?”

Richie didn’t know why he was so surprised. Eddie had mentioned wanting to make the party and seemed pretty excited over the possibility of coming, but Richie just found it odd. Who the fuck would leave their party -- a celebration all about them -- just to come to some boring business party?

“It was mostly over anyway.” Eddie waved him off. “Just a bunch of record label people cheering me on for making them millions. This seems a lot more laid back.” 

“Except for the people circling you like a shark in the water,” Richie mentioned, adjusting his glasses slightly. It suddenly felt warmer despite being a cool sixty degrees. 

“Comes with the territory.” Eddie shrugged, shifting awkwardly where he stood. “I’ve gotten used to giving attention to those I don’t want to give it to.” 

“You can head out if you wanna escape the swarm. I wouldn’t be mad about it, I’m just as bored as you are at this party,” Richie confessed.

“Oh but I never said I didn’t want your attention, Trashmouth.”

Richie choked on the champagne he was currently drinking -and he should stop unless he wanted to end up drunk- and coughed slightly. “Well, that’s good, Eds, I mean, Dr. K, cause I can give you my full attention. I mean, I’ve already been choked, blindfolded, stripped down and murdered by you so… what else could go wrong?” 

That made Eddie chuckle and look away, shaking his head. “Not in the environment I’d like those things to happen, but you’re right. I had fun submitting you,” he teased in a low voice, stepping a bit closer to Richie.

The writer looked down at him, eyes fixed in Eddie’s. “I had fun too. Maybe we can try it some other time? Or maybe switch it around a bit?” 

“I know a place you can stick your needle-”

“Dr. K!” Bill called after the singer, making him turn around. “Sorry to interrupt, but there are some investors who are very interested in speaking with you.” 

Eddie looked up at Richie, who had already stepped back and was looking away, and nodded, walking over to Bill without any more words spoken.

Richie sighed and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. The night was slowly winding down and he found himself waiting for Eddie all over again. Bill mostly kept him at bay. Wasn’t his fault. If it wasn’t investors, then it was other employees or associates. More people arrived and most of them wanted to see Dr. K or get a selfie with them. 

“He’s not the type who waits, you know?” He heard a female voice say. “I’ve known him for years, he’s like my brother. And he never waits for something to happen. He makes it happen.”

He opened his eyes again and found Beverly next to him, watching him intently. “If he wants something, he goes for it. All in. You should be the same.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bev,” Richie muttered somberly. “There’s nothing-“

“Oh please. Do you think I made it this far being stupid? I know love when I see it, Tozier. Don’t wait for it. If you want it, take it. Grab destiny by its balls and make it your own.”

Richie didn’t know what to do with all that. Was he that obvious? What if he did what she told him and everything went to shit with Eddie? He couldn’t lose him again. Not after a decade and a half of waiting for him to come back to his life.

Besides, Eddie already had more than he could ever ask for, and Richie could offer him nothing. Nothing Eddie would want or like. He was a walking disaster and he wasn’t going to ruin what Eddie had.

“Look, Bev. It’s nice of you to play matchmaker and try and fix my miserable life, but I really can’t handle what you’re implying. I can’t handle the rejection well and I’d rather stay like this.”

Beverly sighed and shook her head. “When you called me that first time, asking for Eddie’s address, do you know why I gave it to you?” 

“Because I’m a professional writing an article on him and needed to speak with him to do that?” 

“No, smartass. I’ve never seen him so excited about an interview. You were the first person interested in getting the real story and you were so fucking determined to get it. I don’t know where that determination went, Richie, but it needs to come back.” That’s all she said before leaving him alone again and going to join Ben.

Richie couldn’t handle it longer so he did what he did best, he grabbed a bottle of champagne from one of the tables and headed to the only place he felt at peace. 

He sat on the rooftop, looking up at the sky as he sipped directly from the bottle. Midnight would be any minute now and he was alone and confused, just like every single New Year’s. The only difference is that Eddie was back in his life but he was too much of a coward to even admit to himself what he felt.

They had spent one single New Years' Eve together. Eddie’s mom finally allowed him to sleepover the Tozier’s to celebrate. All the years before, she made him go to sleep at ten, but this year they were going to stay up and they did. They had noisemakers and hats just like everyone downstairs at the party.

They didn’t kiss because his parents were around, but when they were alone and tucked into his bed, Richie was given a peck as a celebration of the new year. 

His train of thoughts was interrupted to the roof access door opened and revealed a still very handsome Eddie. “Mike told me you’d be here,” he explained softly as he made his way over. “May I?” He asked, pointing at the space next to his friend.

“Not waiting for anyone so… knock yourself out.” Richie shrugged and set the bottle on the ground.

“Why the hiding? I was about to return to our conversation.”

“It’s not my scene, you know? I’d rather be at home, to be honest.” Richie admitted, still looking up at the sky.

“Same here. I have to do it, and I’m used to doing it. I thought that leaving the band would allow me to be more me and less Dr. K, and would let me skip these things. But here we are.” Eddie sighed, leaning back gently. “I’m too far gone in this… persona, that I can’t go back now.”

“I miss the old Eddie. The little hypochondriac I fell for…” Richie murmured, almost scared. “I like him better, I think. I like the real you better, but I guess I can’t have one without the other.”

“I thought you liked Dr. K?” Eddie asked quietly. “Thought he was your idol or some shit. I’ve seen the posters and you’ve told me how my music helped you.”

The other chuckled and nodded, finally glancing back at his friend. “It’s funny, cause this hard rock star thing you got going on? Yeah, he is wild and all that shit, and I admire him deeply, no mistake there. But little Eddie? With his fanny pack and inhaler, who didn’t give a crap about the things that were said about us. Who always patched me up, physically and emotionally. Who defied his mom every time he was determined to do something. That little kid? That’s my hero. And fuck it hurt to lose him.”

As if on queue, fireworks invaded New York’s sky and cheers could be heard even from where they were. Richie took a long swig from the bottle, allowing the champagne to burn against his throat. 

“Well, Happy New Year Eds,” Richie said with a smile. 

But Eddie didn’t reply, he simply leaned closer and kissed him softly, cupping his jaw with one hand. The kiss ended as quickly as it started but it left Richie in a sort of daze that didn’t let him process that Eddie was already getting up. 

“Happy New Year, Rich.” And with that, he was gone again through the same door. Leaving Richie alone and confused, just like all those years ago. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell us what you think! Honestly, we thrive off comments. Don't let our work go to waste.


	12. All I Ever Wanted - Billie Eilish

**_And you say, "As long as I'm here  
No one can hurt you  
Don't wanna lie here  
But you can learn to  
If I could change  
The way that you see yourself  
You wouldn't wonder why you're here  
They don't deserve you"_ **

It took the exact amount of three minutes and twenty-eight seconds for Richie to process what had just happened. 

Eddie kissed him. Eddie had been his New Year’s kiss. And now he was gone. 

He stood up quickly and ran down the stairs and back to the party, looking around like a mad man

“You just missed him, Rich. He left,” Beverly informed him before taking a sip of her champagne. “Didn’t tell me where he was going but I’m pretty sure he went home. Happy new year.” She winked and went back to the conversation she was having with one of Paper Boat’s editors. 

He didn’t waste any more time and rushed out of there, running back to his apartment. His lungs were on fire and he was sure he had lost his legs a few blocks away, but he didn’t care. He could worry about getting into shape tomorrow morning; there were more important issues to be discussed at the moment. 

Richie arrived at his flat sweaty, jacket in his hand and gasping for air. “Ed- eds!” He called out as he kicked the door closed. “Eds, please tell me you’re here and I didn’t run- fuck…” it took a second to recover before he could speak again. “Didn’t run pointlessly.”

Eddie laughed from the kitchen, where he was sitting at the counter, eating ice cream out of the tub. “Beep beep, Richie,” he called after him. 

The writer tossed his jacket aside and walked over to the kitchen, taking a bottle of water from the fridge and downing it in one go before addressing the man on the counter. “W-what… Jesus fuck, I definitely have to start working out. What was that? You fucking kissed me and left. How could someone do that? It’s not fair, Eds. Not even for a rockstar like you. And you know about my obvious crush-“

“Beep fucking beep, Rich,” Eddie repeated, setting the ice cream aside. “Yes, I kissed you. But if I recall correctly, I stole that move from you,” he explained with a smirk. “Don’t you remember or shall I freshen up your memory?”

Richie shook his head cause he knew what Eddie was talking about. 

_ Richie was ranting, mostly because Eddie was listening. He and Eddie had been riding their bikes home and were talking about dates. Mostly because his parents were going on one that night and Eddie was going to be dropped off later that night for a sleepover. They were twelve -- old enough to be home alone for three hours that his parents would be away for.  _

_ Granted, they weren’t going to tell Eddie’s mom that because she might actually lose her mind over it, but that's beside the point.  _

_ They were talking about what adults do on dates and shit like that. “They eat food and makeout. That’s about it.” Richie muttered, walking their bikes back to Eddie’s house. He had a dentist appointment right after school and couldn’t be late, but Richie wasn’t ready to part ways just yet.  _

_ “I’m sure there is more to it than that.” Eddie insisted, sending a small glare Richie’s away.  _

_ “They fuck,” Richie muttered, vulgar as ever. “Nothing surprising there, Eds. I think you’re putting too much thought into it.”  _

_ “Couples date. I just want to do what other couples do. We’re a couple, are we not?”  _

_ “Yeah but we’re not like my parents, Eds.”  _

_ They weren’t going to have an old fashioned wedding or the weekly couple's outing. They were two boys in a small town that couldn’t even link pinkies without having the shit kicked out of them. And they were kids! Couple stuff was still fucking weird to them.  _

_ “Still. Wouldn’t hurt to be a little normal.” Eddie sighed, stopping in front of his house. “My mom is probably upstairs. She usually finishes up laundry by this point.”  _

_ Richie bobbed his head, adjusting his glasses slightly. “Coming over at five, right?”  _

_ “Between five and five-thirty. If I have a cavity, my mom will want me to triple brush and probably gloss until my gums bleed.”  _

_ “What a dirty mouth you have, Eduardo.”  _

_ “Oh, shu-” Eddie didn’t get to finish that sentence. He turned to look back to his friend, but Richie closed the gap between them, kissing him soundly before hopping onto his bike and taking off in the direction of his own house without another word.  _

“I was a fucking child then who thought it was funny to play with his dick like it was a lightsaber!” 

“So you don’t still do that?” Eddie challenged with a raised brow.

Richie scoffed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “I could be a Jedi Master by now,” He quipped. “Look, I ran when I was a kid, but I was a kid! That’s what kids did. They were fucking weird.” 

“I was not as weird as a child,” Eddie replied, going back to the ice cream carton. 

“Oh really? So it’s normal for kids to make a chart-”

“Do not bring up my organization chart!” Eddie threatened. 

“A chart for being gay!” Richie fired back. 

“That was not a chart for being gay!” 

_ “You made a chart for being gay?” Richie asked, squinting as he looked over the calendar that Eddie pulled out. They had been alone for twenty minutes and were halfway through an episode of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles when Eddie said he wanted to show Richie something.  _

_ He wanted to comment on already seeing his dick, but he also lowkey hoped it was his dick, so he didn’t say a word. Instead, Eddie went into his backpack and pulled out this folded up piece of paper.  _

_ As he unfolded and unfolded, it turned into a larger paper until finally, Richie found himself looking at a blown-up calendar.  _

_ Eddie rolled his eyes, snapping his hand out pointedly. “It’s not for being gay!” He argued. “Look, you literally said we can’t be like other couples for obvious reasons, but I think we can.”  _

_ He went forward, going to pin the chart up onto Richie’s wall carefully. Richie sat on the floor, watching him intently. “Okay so, obviously we have school Monday to Friday. We ride our bikes together to and from school, so that’s us spending time together. We can usually hang out until five, depending on if you can stay for dinner. If we’re at your house, we can hang in your basement and listen to music. There, we can hold hands and kiss.”  _

_ “What about your house?”  _

_ “I’m getting to that -- don’t interrupt,” Eddie replied coolly. “If we were at my house, we usually have to keep the door open ajar. I don’t think we should hold hands or kiss there unless we know my mom is gone. So days like Wednesday Nights when she has Bingo or Sundays when she does most of the shopping.”  _

_ “Thank God your mom is the size of a truck and it takes her hours just for the weekly shopping to getting done.”  _

_ “I told you like, nine times to stop making fun of my mom asshole. You’re not getting a kiss goodbye tonight.” Eddie snapped. “Now let me fucking continue. Fridays and Saturdays are usually our weekly sleepovers and obviously, once our parents are asleep we can do what we want. Kiss or cuddle or hold hands.”  _

_ Richie raised his hand politely. Eddie rolled his eyes, gesturing for him to speak. “What about dates?” He asked him softly. “We can’t go on those unless we wanna get shoved off Kissing Bridge.” _

_ “I mean, we can still go to the movies. The Aladdin is dark as shit, no one can see us holding hands there. And we can go to the carnival at the end of the summer like we always do. I mean, we can’t touch there, but I could buy your ride bracelet.”  _

_ “Would you let me buy you a corndog, Eds?”  _

_ “Not even if we were on a date. That deep-fried shit is garbage.” Eddie sighed, going into his backpack to pull out a long packet of stars. “Anyway. I think our best bets are on Wednesdays Nights, Friday into Saturday or Saturday into Sunday, and Sunday mornings.” Eddie proceeded to put star stickers on all of those days.  _

_ It was absolute madness knowing that Eddie went through all the trouble to pinpoint the best days of when they’d be able to be intimate. It was completely baffling to know they had to work so fucking hard on being careful just so they could have a few moments of clarity and be like every other couple in the world.  _

_ Richie pushed himself up off the floor, looking over the chart. It wasn’t like Eddie had written anything bad on it. It was pretty discreet and he was sure if their parents saw it they wouldn’t think it was anything other than schoolwork.  _

_ “Eddie Spaghetti, I do believe you are a genius,” Richie mentioned. “I think, the stars are a little much, but the creativity is out of this world.” He reached out, touching the Friday Night box, smirking at the shiny star in the middle of it. “Well, look at that. A star! No holding back, Eds.”  _

_ “Oh shut up,” Eddie said, turning to cup Richie’s face in his hands and pull him in, smiling brightly into the kiss.  _

“Look, I know a lot has changed and I know that the big Rock Star Persona thing isn’t the real you, but I need you to understand that I don’t kiss and run anymore. I barely even kiss anymore, Eds.” 

One night stands had never been in thing. He had tried to be with women just to get through the hell of existing before finally admitting he liked men, but even when it was women he knew and dated. And the guys he had been intimate with were people on his college campus or just guys he knew in general. 

He wasn’t a romantic, but he couldn’t imagine being with someone he didn’t at least enjoy being around. It took a long time for Richie to be comfortable in his skin and he wasn’t going to risk it just to get lucky with a hot piece of ass. 

“I don’t do that shit anymore, Rich.” Eddie insisted. “All that sleeping around and nameless bullshit was from the early days of my career where I just wanted to drown myself in everything around me.” 

“I wanna get to know you, Eddie. There is still so much of . . . there is like a fucking divide or something between us, I hate it.” 

Eddie paused, watching Richie for a long moment before he hopped down the counter and came forward, presenting himself to Richie with loose shoulders and open arms. “This is me. I have tattoos and use hypoallergenic soap. I write all my music, but I will be recording a cover album in less than twelve hours. The only people who call me by my first name are my PA and agent, and now you. I don’t remember the last time I willingly wrote the name Kaspbrak onto anything, and to be honest, I don’t mind that. I hate spiders, love Chinese food, and missed having my best friend in my life.” 

“I missed you too, Eddie,” Richie spoke quietly, moving forward to end the space between them. 

“Truth is, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Rich,” Eddie confessed somberly. “The way it ended . . . I thought that was it. I put so much of you into this other side of me because I needed a reminder of you. A reminder of the good that I had in my life before my mother ruined it. And now here you are and I feel like . . . I have to hold myself back because if I get too close again, you’ll disappear.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Richie swore, placing his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We’re not kids anymore, Eds. Your mother isn’t here to rip you away again.”

“When we were kids you used to say I was your favorite person,” Eddie admitted. 

“You were. Still are even.” 

“I didn’t like being Eddie when we were apart. I almost forgot who he was until you came back around and now I find I don’t want to let him go.” 

“I don’t want to let him go either,” Richie whispered, squeezing his shoulder. “Eds. I don’t . . . I lost a lot when you went away. And I think . . . I’m okay now, but there was still a piece or two missings. Even with you back, I’m still finding my way, you know? But the thing is, I like who I am when you’re around. It’s like . . . you’re the light in my darkness or some shit, finally giving me the chance to see. You’re like my glasses or something, dude.” 

“I thought you were a writer, why are you using such shitty metaphors?” 

“Gremlin, can you just let me finish?” Richie replied in haste. “I want to be with you, okay? In any way you want me. Friends or more, I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“And if I want more?” Eddie asked carefully. 

“Then call me a roadie, because I’m all yours, Spaghetti.” 

“You’re not . . . we’re not even on the road, Rich.” 

“Then call me whatever you call a roadie when you’re not on the road. A Homie. No wait, that’s a friend. Or is that a way to say, homosexual? Huh. Never thought of it that way.”

Richie didn’t get to finish that thought. Eddie pulled him down for another kiss. Far deeper and more persistent than their gentle smoosh on the rooftop. Richie swiftly settled on the kiss, his arms looping around Eddie carefully to hold him close. 

When they pulled away to breathe, he smiled brightly, ignoring how their foreheads were squashed and his glasses were ever so slightly crooked. 

Yeah, this was a way to ring in the New Year. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please tell us what you think below! Honestly, it's the only thing that keeps it going!


	13. Dancer - Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that our Richie in this verse has his own Instagram account! Please feel free to follow "the.richietozier" to keep up to date with everything going on with Paper Boat and Dr. K! 
> 
> ALSO STREAM QUEEN

**_You're the life and soul of the 'funktion'  
It took me all night  
To get hold of the right introduction  
Blew me out of sight  
I taste your lipstick  
I look in your eyes  
You feel fantastic  
My body cries_ **

Dating Eddie was far different from dating anyone else in the world. 

This was Eddie. Richie was dating again for the second time since they were kids. Like, actual children. Back when the sexiest thing they did was cuddle in the hammock in his backyard and fall asleep together. 

Now they were adults and there were a lot more things they could do. Richie wasn’t a virgin, so he wasn’t going to blush at the idea of doing scandalous things with Eddie, but at the same time, this wasn’t some guy. 

This was Eddie. 

And as much as Richie wanted to bend the man over or get on all fours for him, there was still a barrier they had to cross. 

They didn’t want to rush into anything. They had seventeen years to make up for but at the same time, they weren’t going to start bumping uglies right away. They weren’t walking on eggshells around one another, but they were taking their time here. 

They didn’t sleep together. 

Okay, there was one time they fell asleep on Richie’s couch while watching Nightbreed, but that didn’t count. They slept in separate rooms, mostly because both beds in the apartment were already too small for them on their own. Sharing would result in one of them falling off or breaking the bed altogether. 

They didn’t have sex either. 

They had made out tons, which to be honest, was still at the top of Richie’s “Hottest Thing I’ve Ever Done” list. There weren’t any wandering hands or thrusting hips. Just two people, totally into one another, kissing lazily and maybe a little more heatedly. 

The kisses they shared when they were kids were so innocent it was sickening. Eddie put his tongue in his mouth once by accident and they both ended up gagging over how fucking slimy it all was. 

Now Richie imagines that tongue in other places and he feels the tightening in his stomach that always led to him rubbing one out of his Dr. K poster. 

Now Dr. K is here and Richie tells himself that if he gets a boner around him, he’ll kill himself. 

They will get to that point eventually. As much time as they lost, Richie knew that neither was going anywhere. They could take their time, be a real couple. 

Eddie was busy recording, having finally decided on which songs he was going to do. He had shown Richie a few of them but was mostly keeping it a secret. Richie was fine with that. He respected his boyfriend's craft enough not to push. 

Fuck. Eddie was his boyfriend.  _ Dr. K _ was his  _ boyfriend _ . 

What a fucking  _ world _ .

Richie understood that with Eddie came Dr. K and he was fine with that. Richie wasn’t to stomp his feet and cry, wanting to have one more than. And it wasn’t like Eddie was trying to hide him either. When they would go out, he’d dress as plainly as possible, but he wasn’t going to avoid touching Richie at the risk being seen. 

And they had been seen. 

Paparazzi had snapped some photos of them that went everywhere. At first, no one said anything. Everybody knew Dr. K was gay and the pictures were just them walking down the street. Richie was wearing a Yankee hat and gym shorts with some graphic tee. Eddie was dressed like the European God he was. They didn’t look like a couple. The people who noticed mostly thought of them as either friend or that Richie was his new PA. 

And that was fine. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Until days turned into weeks and the weeks went on and they started doing things they were denied as kids. They held hands in public when they would do their grocery shopping or something mundane like that.

Eddie dragged him into Whole Foods because he could afford the organic options they had and put up with Richie’s bitching on how pretentious the entire store was. They would fill their cart up and Eddie would slide his credit card without even looking at the price. 

Having a wealthy boyfriend was a whole other thing Richie had to get used to. 

He made a good living at Paper Boat, but he also didn’t live extravagantly. He was a moderate man with moderate needs. He saved when he could and spent what he needed, but he didn’t splurge on things because he could. 

Money was a different thing for Eddie. He worked hard and had a lot of it, so he never batted an eye when it came to sliding his card or tossing down a few Ben Franklins. It also helped at the record label let him have everything he wanted for free. When he was going over things to buy for his home, Beverly informed him that it would be all on the record labels card. 

Every chair, every cushion. The couch, his bed, his fucking TV and patio furniture, all free. 

Like, what the fuck? 

Richie hadn’t been looking for a sugar daddy nor did he ever plan on being a trophy boyfriend, but he never made it a big deal. Eddie was a rockstar. Couldn’t stop that. And it wasn’t like he was flaunting his money. Richie let him stay at his place rent-free. If he paid for some things here or there, that was fine. 

They even one another out. 

But yeah. They had been spotted holding hands or sharing a kiss. Doing normal things. They weren’t in Maine anymore. They weren’t kids. They could kiss while getting coffee or throw their arms around each other while walking down Rodeo Drive. 

That was when people paid attention. 

Dr. K never had a public relationship. Eddie admitted he never even had a relationship. There were people he had been seen with, but it never really mattered. Not until Richie. And Richie had tried dating but it never worked out. 

Now they were together, drowning in absolute bliss despite having cameras shoved in their faces from time to time. 

Nobody knew who Richie was, which was perfectly fine to Richie. 

At least until Paper Boat released the pictures of Eddie and him in pre-promotion of his album and that was when shit hit the face. Suddenly people were seeing him as someone other than just a random guy. At first, they thought he was just an unknown male model, which was odd because Richie was anything but a model. 

And then somehow, someone realized who he was. Someone found his name, maybe from his Instagram or Twitter. They recognized something on him despite his face barely being noticeable and put two and two together and now people knew. 

They knew that Dr. K was dating Richard Tozier of Paper Boat. 

Dating the guy who wrote the article about him. The guy who willingly opened his mouth for him, and got strapped down, and allowed to murder. 

The world exploded after that. TMZ was all over it. There were Buzzfeed articles. Even the Paper Boat twitter account, which was funny enough run by Georgie of all people half the time, was commenting on the whole thing. 

Richie didn’t know what to do. He never liked mixing business with pleasure, but Eddie was so much more than both those things. They’ve known one another for decades. This wasn’t some fresh and new relationship that could be shattered by too much attention. 

It was jarring, constantly being watched and having people call their names, but they’d make it work. 

Despite being with a celebrity, Richie wanted to make this relationship as normal as possible, and that meant taking his little Spaghetti out on the town. They had gone out before, with Eddie showing Richie the nice restaurants he liked to go to where the prices weren’t printed and people with cameras weren’t permitted. 

It was nice and being taken care of was so different that he found himself getting comfortable in that space, but he still wanted to take care of his man, even if he couldn’t afford five-star places unless he transferred some money.

They went out for dinner most nights or Eddie would hire someone to cook for them, which was hilarious since Richie’s kitchen was a fucking nightmare. They’d get take out and sit on the couch or they would dress finely and go to a place that Richie couldn’t pronounce. 

Richie decided this time around, he was going to plan something else for his man and what better way to do that than to throw some nostalgia their way and recreate their first official date. 

Twelve-year-old Richie was a determined fucker and if his best buddy and secret boyfriend wanted to be wooed, then Richie would woo the fuck out of him. 

His parents had some dental party to go to, leaving Richie on his own as they passed his sister on to her friends. Richie invited Eddie over for some innocent hanging out, but it was anything but innocent. 

He had plans. 

And Richie was going to recreate those plans. So when Eddie came back from the studio, slightly exhausted, but also super eager to talk about his day, he came back to find the apartment completely clean, with the couch and coffee table moved back ever so slightly. 

“Eduardo, my darling! Your supper awaits!” Richie called from the kitchen. 

On the table, he had two individual pizzas set up. Untouched, uncooked. Just the dough. Surrounding that was every topping you could imagine. Pepperoni, sausage, chicken, anchovies, pineapple, peppers, and a bunch of other shit Richie picked up from the store. He had six different types of sauce they could use. 

Rather than serving it with beer as he’d usually do, he grabbed them some old fashioned root beer like his dad used to keep in the downstairs fridge. 

He held his arms out, showing off the whole set up with a goofy smile on his face. “Well?” He asked, hoping that Eddie didn’t find it dumb or unromantic. 

The other man looked over the scene, a smile creeping over his lips slowly. “Are you serious?” He asked eagerly. 

“We’re pizza men tonight, Eds,” Richie reassured him. 

“Fuck, I haven’t made my pizza since I was a kid,” Eddie admitted lightly. 

“Our date nights usually consist of us going out to some fancy restaurant and getting pictures taken of us while we eat. I figured this time around we could make our meal and maybe snap a photo of ourselves, huh?” 

“You’re recreating our first date,” He mentioned with a laugh. 

“You remember?” 

“How could I not? I think that was the night I fell in love with you.” 

_ “I know it’s not like, anything fancy,” Richie admitted, adjusting his glasses slightly.  _

_ Eddie had been pretty persistent on wanting to be like every other couple. He wanted them to be real boyfriends and not just be messing around until they got to high school. Richie knew better than to just step out of the closet doing a fucking tap dance, but he also didn’t like seeing Eddie sad.  _

_ So he lied and told his parents had had a home ec project and needed to buy the stuff. He paid for it himself, using his allowance. He thought, at least if they could make pizzas and put whatever they wanted, then they’d have some freedom. He even got that shitty gluten-free dough that Eddie’s mom buys from time to time.  _

_ They were alone in his kitchen, being little chaotic assholes and making a complete mess as they worked on their pizzas. He’s known how to use the oven since he was ten, so there was no worry that he might burn the house down. _

_ “It’s great, Rich. Best date ever.”  _

_ “It’s our first date ever.” Richie reminded him.  _

_ “Then I guess you’ll have to do even better next time.” Eddie shrugged, a playful smile on his face.  _

_ “I have to plan next time!? Why don’t you plan the next date, huh? We both wear the pants in this relationship, Edward!”  _

“This is disgustingly romantic, you are aware of that,” Eddie said as he carefully sprinkled the shredded mozzarella onto his pesto pizza. 

“And this is disgustingly delicious,” Richie replied, doing the final touches onto his pizza, which was filled with everything except the pineapple because he wasn’t inhuman like some people (Eddie).

Once complete, Richie pushed them into the oven, slapping on the timer so they could begin to cook. Richie leaned back against the counter, just watching the other male. He was so fucking beautiful in such a simple way, it made his heartache. 

“You know, if you’re gonna redo this whole thing, we would be dancing in your basement right now.” Eddie pointed out. 

“Well, I don’t have a basement anymore, though I do have some tunes we could jam out to.” 

Richie led Eddie into the living room, going to his phone so he could play music over his speaker. He twisted to face Eddie as a familiar song began playing. 

“You know I bought you that album so you can play it and listen, not just use your Spotify account.” 

“I’m never fucking touching that album for as long as I live!” Richie replied, gesturing to the wall where the signed Hot Space album was hanging up in a protective case. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie scoffed rolling his eyes at him playfully. 

Richie shimmied his shoulders, dancing where he stood in the middle of the living room. “I still got my moves.” He promised playfully.

“You have no moves. You never had moved.” Eddie swore.

“Bullshit. You loved what I could do.” 

“I loved watching you make a fool of yourself,” Eddie said with a smirk. 

Richie would do anything to make Eddie smile even if it meant making a fool out of himself. They spent many nights in his basement jamming out to whatever record Richie could get his hands on, dancing around like absolute fools. 

Of course, Eddie grew into his bonds and has finally figured out how to dance while Richie mostly shook like a wet dog trying to dry off.

Richie kept moving like he always did -seriously, he was awful- and eventually Eddie gave in, shifting closer to him. “Have you ever got laid by dancing like this?” The musician asked with a smirk, taking the other’s hands and placing them on his waist. 

“I mean, usually the other person was pretty wasted like me so… I guess that helped,” he said, slowing his movements to the rhythm of the song to try and mimic Eddie’s movements. 

He was a failure though, just too giddy to take everything seriously. So they remained dancing like two idiots, just as they did when they were kids. Laughing, Richie cracking jokes and Eddie having none of it. 

It was as if they went back in time for a bit, but at the same time, they were in the present. They went through too much and learned too much. But here they were, back together at last. Fuck your destiny. Fuck you. 

They ended up burning their pizzas a little, not too much though, caught having too much fun dancing to the musical jewel that was Hot Space. But they didn’t care at all, what they enjoyed most were sitting close on the couch while watching a crappy movie and eating their pizza -also stealing little kisses along the way, despite Richie’s garlic breath. Yup. That was a pretty solid relationship right there. 

And they both knew there’d be hardships along the way, Eddie opening up to Richie and Richie getting used to his boyfriend’s fame, but they would manage along the way. After all, no paparazzi could compare to Sonia Kaspbrak when she got mad. 

“Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if we had been together in High school?” Eddie pondered as they washed the dishes afterward. 

“A lot less depressing, that much I can say,” Richie commented, pushing his glasses up as he looked over to the other male. “Would’ve been better, but hey. We’re together now, right?” Richie asked him with a hopeful glance. 

“Yeah. Together now.” Eddie repeated, a gentle smile coming across his face. 

“So,” Richie mused, watching his boyfriend carefully as he carefully scrubbed away the burn marks on the pan. “Wanna make out?” 

Eddie didn’t even lookup. He just flicked the soapy water from his hands into Richie’s face, drenching his glasses until he couldn’t see. He snickered as Richie’s groaned and removed the specs to dry them with his shirt. 

What a freaking asshole. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Richie and Eddie go on the cutest date imaginable? Yes, they did! 
> 
> Please tell us down below what you thought. I know it's becoming repetitive to constantly ask you to comment, but you have to understand that as writers, we put our all into each chapter and the only thing we ask in return are your thoughts.


	14. Because The Night - Patti Smith/Bruce Springsteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up (or heads down -- beep beep Richie), but the M rating has officially come into effect.

**_Have I doubt when I'm alone_ **   
**_Love is a ring, the telephone_ **   
**_Love is an angel disguised as lust_ **   
**_Here in our bed until the morning comes_ **

**_Come on now try and understand_ **   
**_The way I feel under your command_ **   
**_Take my hand as the sun descends_ **   
**_They can't touch you now_ **   
**_Can't touch you now, can't touch you now_ **

  
**_Because the night belongs to lovers_ **   
**_Because the night belongs to lust_ **   
**_Because the night belongs to lovers_ **   
**_Because the night belongs to us_ **

Life had never been good for Richie. At least not for too long.

His life was pretty boring before meeting Eddie, and then when they finally met and became friends, it got good. And then when they became beyond friends, it became even better. 

And then Eddie went away and it got bad again. And it took Richie a pretty long time to be okay with not being okay. It took him a long time to become comfortable in his skin after the hell he had gone through and the shit he put himself through. 

Now Eddie was back and life was good. They were together every night, settling up on the couch, watching a movie or some shitty tv show. Eddie was all in on recording the album and Richie had already been assigned a new project for the magazine. 

It was back to puff pieces for now, but after the reaction, they have been getting from Eddie’s issue and the fact that people knew him by name now is just a foot in the door of having more serious topics come his way. 

Still, it couldn’t last. 

Richie refused to believe it would last. How could it? 

Things were just _too good_. And nothing in Richie’s life could ever be _too good_ for _too long_. Something would come along and shatter the modeling of this perfect life they had built together. The pressure of having a rockstar boyfriend would hit him too close to home. Eddie would grow bored with him or they would both drift apart one way or another. 

Richie didn’t try to be a Debbie Downer, honestly, he didn’t. But he knew his strength, own luck, and what the real world was like. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, didn’t want to fall headfirst into something when he just didn’t trust himself.

He was older now and could take the hits as they came, but he just wasn’t sure he’d survive the heartbreak a second time around. 

So he tried to keep things at bay for them.

They would make out, but he’d never allowed his hands to roam. If Eddie was too close and things got too heated, Richie would always be the one to break away first. He had spent many nights jerking off in the cold water of his tiny shower to the images of a man that was just a few feet away. 

They didn’t talk about it, but mostly because they didn’t have the chance to. By the time they were both homes, they were too busy talking about their day and trying to figure out dinner. Eddie had suggested meal prepping, which in hindsight sounded like a good idea, but Richie couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. 

“Don’t make us suffer lesbian bed death this early into our relationship, Eds.” He had commented.

He didn’t mean to sound so bitter. It was far too easy to fall into domestic bliss with Eddie by his side. He thought about things he never imagined thinking of. Like buying new dish towels or the fluffy hotel-style bathroom robes. 

They got used to being around one another and even if they weren’t sharing a room, they still shared a bathroom and if they could do that, then they could do just about anything. 

Richie thought it over, again and again, trying not to get too anxious about it. He didn’t talk about it with anyone, though he found himself cornered by Bill one afternoon. They were on lunch break after going over some updates for the newest issue to be released. 

They were talking about how Audra and he had been trying for kids and how he was having sex every single night. His hips were bruised and he had scratches on his back. Not exactly the topic Richie expected to have over Panera Bread, but here they were. 

“I’m sure Eddie’s just as wild in the bedroom,” Bill mentioned teasingly, though Richie just shrugged. “What I don’t get to hear the gossip?” 

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I kissed and told?” Richie asked, adjusting his lenses. “Besides, no gossip to share anyhow.” 

Bill raised a brow to this, obviously having been expecting the opposite. Richie wasn’t surprised, of course. Eddie was well, Eddie. Dr. Fucking K. Sex God. Gorgeous. Christ. The thoughts Richie had. The fantasies he created. The dreams he had woken up from. 

Fucking Eddie would be something Richie could cross off his bucket list. They just hadn’t gotten there yet. 

“I don’t get it. You’ve been friends for years. He’s like your first love or some shit.” 

“Yeah, and?” 

“Seriously, what’s the hold-up?”

“There is no hold-up.” Richie insisted. “We’re taking things slow. I know that sounds pathetic as fuck, but I don’t want to dive headfirst into something that may not even last into the year.” 

“Into the year? Richie, it’s not even February yet.” 

“Yeah, and none of my other relationships lasted longer than a month. What makes Eddie so different?” 

“You’ve dated him before, haven’t you?” 

“We were together when we were kids, Bill. Like, actual babies. We didn’t even have hair near our dicks yet. I think I tried to French him once and he bit down on my tongue and made me bleed.” 

“Hot,” Bill commented, sipping on his green tea. 

Richie sent him a quick glare, stabbing his fork into his bacon mac and cheese as he twisted the fork around. He understood why people hated this place. It was overpriced for genetic shit. He would have been better off bringing that good old fashioned Kraft blue box and making his bowl at the office. 

“We’re taking it slow, all right? Nothing wrong with that.” 

“Nothing’s wrong if you’re doing it for the right reasons,” Bill encouraged. “But Rich, it sounds like you’re keeping Eddie at arm's length because you think you’re gonna end up breaking up.” 

Richie just shrugged, keeping his eyes on the overly priced cheesed noodles in the bowl before him. 

“Do you think that’s gonna happen?”

Richie didn’t reply, but it was obvious that he did. When he got home, he sat on the couch and dwelled about it, letting it all fester inside his mind until he found himself being unable to think of anything else. When Eddie came home from the studio, he ambushed him. 

He hated himself for it since Eddie has been busting his ass while recording. With each song being a cover, he wanted to put his spin on it, meaning every single track had to be rearranged to fit the signature Dr. K style. That meant double the hours put into the recording booth, working on all the instruments and whatnot. 

And here Richie was, springing such a sour subject onto him without a single hello. 

Eddie was rambling on like he always did. Richie was happy to see that the never-ending speeches that came directly from Eddie Kaspbrak’s mouth remained throughout the years. 

He was going on about one of the songs on the album and how he got an acoustic version might be the right way to go when Richie interrupted him. 

“I don’t wanna break up.” 

And that was enough to shut Eddie up. Which, if you knew him well, was a pretty impressive thing to do. Since they were kids, once Eddie started to rant, he was unstoppable. But Richie managed it with just five words. 

“Where the hell did that come from?” Eddie asked, confusion clear in his features as he walked over to the couch, the topic of his album completely forgotten. 

“I don’t want to break up. It’s . . . it’s gonna happen eventually. It always does. This is a miracle for me to be honest, none of my relationships lasted more than a month and I know it is because of me. I must be-“

“Beep beep, Richie,” the other interrupted him, kneeling in front of the writer. 

“Look, I’m me, okay? I know how I am. And none of my relationships lasted more than a month. All the guys got tired and left,” he confessed. “And here you are, being amazing and caring and hot and you haven’t left yet. Why haven’t you left yet?” He refused to cry. No. He wasn’t going to. But fuck it was hard. 

“Why would I go, Rich?” Eddie asked softly, that softness that was only saved for the people he knew and trusted. “I don’t want to break up either.” He reached for his boyfriend’s hand and gave them a little squeeze. “You’re overreacting and also getting ahead of yourself. Look at me…”

Richie sighed softly and did just that, meeting those beautiful big eyes that felt stared right at his soul. 

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now. I’ve got a no return policy,” he tried to joke to lighten the mood a little. “What brought this up?”

Richie shook his head and looked down at their hands. “You’re _you_ and I’m _me_. I don’t know what you’ve read on the internet but what they-“

“I’m gonna cut you off right there because there’s a reason why I keep myself away from social media as much as I do.” He moved from where he was to sit next to Richie, not letting go of his hand. “They say things to sell but that doesn’t mean they are true. Yes, your hygiene is a little questionable. But you’re working on it,” he chuckled and ran his fingers through Richie’s hair. “You get me and I can be myself when I’m with you. Actually myself, not Dr. K. You’re hardworking and funny. And yes, maybe your jokes sometimes bring me to the edge of wanting to kick your shin, but I love you like that. And I’m not leaving any time soon.”

Richie didn’t know if the other meant to say it, it was probably a slip-up, it couldn’t be. But his heat shot up anyway and his eyes went wide in surprise. “You… you love me?” He murmured. 

“Of all the things I said, even about your hygiene, you stuck with that?” Eddie asked with a shy smile and a- was that blushing in his cheeks?

“Well, geez, I don’t know. No one drops the L bomb so carelessly!”

“Lesbians?” Eddie asked with a playful smirk. 

“Yes, lesbians, Eddie.” Richie laughed nervously. “You meant it?” He asked. And it was clear that he was scared, excited, nervous, all at once. 

“I meant it, Rich. I wouldn’t just-“

And it was Richie’s turn to shut Eddie up with a piercing kiss. “I love you too,” he murmured without even separating their lips. 

Eddie smiled into the kiss, running his fingers through Richie’s hair. He tugged playfully, making the taller man groan. “No more worrying, got it?”

“Got it,” Richie muttered. “I’m sorry for being an apprehensive moron. Will you ever forgive me?” 

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” 

Richie smirked and leaned over to kiss him again. “Maybe I do have an idea.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me then.” Eddie urged as he caressed the back of his boyfriend’s neck. 

The latter just shook his head and kissed him again, this time slower and more determined. “I prefer showing you.” Hearing those words and seeing the sincerity in Eddie’s eyes was all he needed to feel confident about this. Yes, there were going to be bumps, but it was normal in any couple. 

He pulled away from his lips to kiss down his jaw and neck, allowing himself to tease Eddie a bit; enjoy the little needy sounds his boyfriend made as Richie kissed and nibbled the sensitive skin. That meant he was doing the right thing. 

His hands went gingerly under Eddie’s t-shirt, making the other shiver at the contact. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“If you stop, Trashmouth, I’m gonna burn Hot space,” Eddie almost growled. 

“But it’s a signed copy!”

“Then don’t stop.” 

Richie chuckled and bit the other’s neck, gripping the other’s waist a bit tighter. “Fuck, you’re bossy. I love that, Eds.” He took his free hand and rested it on the other’s thigh, earning some hair tugging from Eddie, which he loved if he was being honest. 

He didn’t know what overcame him, to be honest, but he was going to enjoy every single drop of confidence he had at that moment; he wasn’t going to let it go. So Richie dropped to his knees, right in between Eddie’s. 

“R-Rich, what… what are you doing?” Eddie asked softly, staring down at him, clearly surprised but the blown pupils indicated he was turned on. 

“Showing how sorry I am,” Richie replied easily as he ran his hands up the other’s thighs and went to undo his belt. 

“Here is where I tell you that you don’t need to do it. But fuck you look good there,” Eddie confessed, biting his lower lip and reaching to caress Richie’s cheek. “So fucking good.”

Richie took that as an encouragement and unzipped the other’s jeans, not lowering them yet. Oh no, he was going to have his fun. He lifts his shirt a little and suddenly he was met with those glorious tattoos he stared for a long time on posters. They were there in front of him and he had to take a second to that whatever force brought them together before leaning down and kissing over them, following the lines as he rubbed Eddie’s already half-hard dick through his jeans. 

The musician’s hands went straight to the other’s hair and tugged at it, earning a moan from Richie. “You’re killing me,” he murmured. 

“Oh no. Don’t die, you’re too sexy,” Richie smirked and sucked a little hickey next to one of the leaves. A work of art if you asked him. He tugged at Eddie’s jeans and with a little help from him, he got rid of the piece of clothing. The underwear remained though, wanting to tease him as much as he could; even though he needed to suck him off in the next ten minutes or he was the one going to die. 

“You’re a piece of shit, you knew that?” Eddie groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. “I’ll beg if I have to, Rich.”

Richie licked his already hard cock through his boxers and smirked up at him. “Oh, please beg. I wanna hear it, Eds.”

The musician cursed under his breath and swallowed hard. “Richie, my love, my darling… please suck my dick.” He pleaded in the sweetest voice he could muster at that moment. 

Richie shouldn’t find those words that hot, but he did. Fuck he did. “Your wish is my command,” he murmured and tugged Eddie’s underwear off.

And okay. He should have imagined that Eddie was well endowed but he never imagined that. To be honest, his mouth would water no matter what, because it was Eddie’s dick there, hard and beautiful. 

“It ain’t gonna suck itself, beautiful,” Eddie said softly but hoarsely. 

Richie didn’t have to be told twice. He had always considered himself to be a bit of a service top. He wanted to make his lovers comfortable, though that could have been from his own self-loathing. He wanted to make the people sleeping with him as happy as possible as he didn’t ever deem himself worthy of having sex with.

Sure, he had a nice dick and knew how to use it, but for a very long time, he thought of himself as a reject. 

Now here he was, on his knees for the guy he loved and the rockstar he idolized. 

He was pretty sure Eddie could ask him to assassinate someone and he’d say yes so long as he could to have a taste of him first. 

He licked his lips and winked at him before taking his cock in his mouth slowly, wanting to enjoy every second of it. He had always prided himself of his nonexistent gag reflex and he was gonna put it to good use now, taking all of Eddie easily into his mouth and swallowing around it. 

“Fuck, Rich… that mouth…” he breathed out, staring down at him. “I want you to look at me. I want to see you while you suck me off.”

The other moaned softly, as much as his boyfriend’s dick allowed him, and met his gaze before he started bobbing his head. Slow and experimental at first, but once he figured out a pace in which he could feel Eddie lose it, he kept it, swirling his tongue around the tip from time to time. 

Truth was, Richie was pretty damn good giving head, or that was what guys told him, and now it was his mission to give Eddie the best blow job of his life. 

As he was only human, he was hard as well, his jeans no longer comfortable. So, without stopping his movements, he undid his jeans and lowered them down a little, enough to free his cock and stroke himself at the same pace. 

It felt so good, and it’d been so long, that he knew he wasn’t going to last, and judging by the moans and jerky movements from Eddie, the other man wasn’t going to last long either. 

Richie picked up his pace a little bit and felt his boyfriend’s hold get tighter on his hair. ”B-babe… I’m gonna-“ he moaned as a warning and Richie pulled back, licking his lips again. He replaced his mouth with his hand though, stroking them both at the same pace. 

Richie came first, all over his jeans and some on the floor, Eddie’s name dropping from his lips like a prayer. And with that, he gave all his attention back to Eddie, kissing his thighs and his hips again. 

The other was a mess, switching between biting his lip and moaning, and when he came… fuck. It was beautiful. Something Richie wouldn’t forget for the rest of his life. It was a life-changing experience, no joke. He came with Richie’s name on his lips, messing up his chest, jeans and even some of his boyfriend’s face. 

Life-changing experience. 

Eddie leaned down and captured his lips in a fierce kiss, biting the other’s lips playfully. “Next time, darling, I’ll let you swallow.”

And fuck that was tempting. Richie just nodded and kissed him again, looking forward to next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to tell us what you think! You have no idea what it means to hear your thoughts and words. Honestly, it makes the struggle to pump out these chapters all the more bearable. 
> 
> Once again, reminder that Richie's Instagram "the.richietozier" is available to follow. He updates along with every chapter and a few sneak peeks in between.


	15. D'yer Mak'er - Led Zeppelin

**_I still love you so_ **   
**_I can't let you go_ **   
**_I love you_ **   
**_Oh, baby, I love you_ **

**_Oh oh oh oh oh oh_ **   
**_Every breath I take, oh oh oh oh_ **   
**_Oh, every move I make_ **   
**_Oh, baby please don't go_ **

Richie never expected to have a normal relationship with Eddie. How could he? He was literally dating a rockstar. People with shiny cameras would sometimes follow and snap pictures of them, and then those pictures would end up on the internet or tv -they even made it to Rolling Stone once. It was a lot to take in, so having a regular life wasn’t going to be ideal. 

But by golly, they tried. 

They did their usual shit like shopping for the apartment or going to get furniture for Eddie’s impending home. Richie wasn’t looking forward to Eddie’s house being completed and chose to ignore it for as long as possible. If they didn’t bring it up, it wasn’t happening, right? 

He would sometimes visit Eddie at the studio and watch him work. It was so surreal, seeing him do all the behind the scenes stuff. Spectacular. Eddie put his whole heart and soul into this album and Richie could be prouder. 

On one particular day, Richie sat off on one of the long couches that were more comfortable than the one in his apartment as Eddie went over the fine details with his manager. Stanley Uris was a dry-humored person that Richie adored simply because he didn’t take any of his jokes seriously but boldly said that Richie was one of the best things to happen to the performer. Richie’s cheeks burned for hours after that. 

The album release was going to come up within the next few weeks, which was exciting enough on its own, but Stan was working on a three-month-long tour for Dr. K all around America. Richie knew tours were part of the job; he had been to a handful of them in his lifetime, but he never realized how much time and effort went into planning them. 

Dozens of cities, nearly every single state, and that were just in North America. Stan was rattling off ideas for a European tour if the solo album sold well enough and they planned on it selling better than ever before. 

The Paper Boat magazine skyrocketed his career as a solo performer and Stan was already lining him up with different interviews and private performances. The Tonight Show, SNL, Ellen Degeneres, just to name a few. 

Eddie didn’t bat an eye at any of this. He had been waiting for it all. The impending doom that came from being a popular performer. Everybody wanted you and for the most part, all you could do was bob your head and go along with it. Eddie loved his career of choice and despite finding it tiring, knew what he had to do to keep on doing it. 

“I’m just thankful I’m not a pop star,” He had joked one night while with Richie. They were squeezing into Richie’s bed, deciding that sleeping alone fucking sucked so why not just find a way to make it work. 

Eddie ordered to buy Richie a new bed, but the man declined. For one, this bed wasn’t even that old, and for two, Richie liked cuddling up with his little Eddie Spaghetti. 

It was mostly the tour that worried him. They had finally found one another again. They were together and then Eddie would be gone for three whole months. Richie had read enough to know what goes down during tours. Rockstars get needy and lonely, and Richie wasn’t going to start thinking Eddie would cheat on him, but time away could hurt a healthy relationship. 

He tried to keep it inside because he was a depressing fuck who didn’t want to ruin a good time. He wanted Eddie to think he was excited about the whole thing because he was! But he found himself counting down the days, and the hours, and minutes even if they had a very long time before it even came around. 

The album was still being recorded after all. They had half a year to get their shit together and yet Richie was pouting in the corner, looking out the window like he was already waiting for his lover to come home from war. 

He tried to play it off, but Richie had never been a very good actor. He was overly quiet and sometimes jumpy. Whenever Eddie would ask him if he was fine, he’d just change the subject or kiss him altogether so their mouths could do something other than talk. It was fine, it was good. They had other ways to deal with their emotions and to be honest, Richie preferred those ways. 

Still, Eddie wasn’t the only one to notice the slight change. Mike had found Richie at work, tucked away in his cubicle eating lunch that he had brought from home. Eddie had convinced Richie to go running with him and start being healthier. They went to Whole Foods and Wegmans, always hitting up the prepared food section to pick out some things he could take to the office. 

Kale wasn’t the worst thing in the world, and tofu was pretty good if marinated correctly. He wasn’t about to turn into a vegetarian or vegan, but some of their selections were pretty amazing. Richie was lazily munching on his greens when Mike spotted him and the two began chatting. 

They ended up going out to get coffee and fresh air. Mike was talking about the plans he had with his wife, celebrating their final Valentine’s Day before the baby arrived. Richie had thought of what he wanted to do with his boyfriend on this specific day. 

He had never been one of those miserable men who thought Valentine’s Day was commercialized and shit. He didn’t know what he wanted to buy Eddie because, to be honest, Eddie already had so much even if half of it was in storage. 

He had been mulling it over while in his cubicle, another thing to think about the day went on. Eventually, Mike got to him and he broke free, expressing all his worry. Mike, who was a professional writer and specialized mostly in the musical aspects of the world, understood wholeheartedly. 

“Touring is hard. I’ve interviewed hundreds of artists who all express different feelings about it. To some, it’s the best time of their lives, going out and performing while others are miserable about it.” 

“K is on like, this fine line. Yes and no. He’s glad to do it but he is ready for it to be over before it even begins.” 

“The time apart will be hard, but you could always go with him,” Mike suggested, sipping carefully at his latte.

“I feel like I’ll just be in the way. Besides, I don’t think Bill is going to let me go off for three whole months to tour North America.” 

“He’s flexible,” Mike shrugged. “Have you talked to Dr. K about it?” Mike asked him gently. 

“We don’t get into it. I think it’s just too real for us. We’re both so fresh and new into this and now suddenly we‘re staring down the barrel and . . . I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it.” 

“It’s going to be hard regardless of what you do, Rich. Just remember you’re not gonna be the only one suffering. He’ll be in every different city imaginable, with people throwing themselves at him, wanting him to perform for them, and the whole time he’ll probably be missing you just as much.” 

“Christ Mike, can you not pull at my heartstrings?” 

“The road is a lonely place to live in, Rich.” 

Well, that was just fucking wonderful. It was bad enough Richie had to think of himself alone and miserable, missing Eddie more than anybody, but now he had to imagine Eddie feeling the same way. 

Richie had never been very confident and he was fairly certain that Eddie deserved a lot better than some schlub like him, but he knew he could make him happy. Just as Eddie had made him happy. 

Sure he might be Dr. K the rockstar but to Richie, he was just Eddie. The guy who kept his nails nice and clean, and organized his underwear drawer, and would fall asleep if Richie massaged his scalp for too long. The guy who was terrified of spiders no matter how much he denied it. Who despite being named one of the sexiest men alive year after year still gets jealous when a waitress or waiter flirts with Richie while they’re out to dinner. 

He was Richie’s first and only love at this point and he hoped that never changes. And while he was fully aware of the challenges they faced, Richie couldn’t imagine taking them on with anybody else. 

So whining over him going away for months wasn’t something Richie was going to take sitting down. He wasn’t going to hold his song and be a miserable fuck, pouting his way through the summertime. 

He was a grown-ass man and he could talk about his feelings. For fuck sake, he paid hundreds to see a therapist to do just that! Might as well talk to Eddie for free. 

He slipped out of work not long after the conversation with Mike. He went down to the studio, flashing his pass that Eddie had given him. 

He walked down the long hallways, slipping to the recording booth, watching as Eddie performed in the box.

Being a fan of Dr. K had always been a big deal to Rich, but being able to watch him record was a whole different experience. Eddie put his heart and soul into every line he sang and even if the song wasn’t written by him, it sure as hell felt like it. 

Richie stood watching for a long moment before he was finally noticed by Eddie. His instant smile was remarkable and it had the butterflies in his stomach fluttering like mad. 

He left the box and came into the studio. 

“That was great, K. I think we finally got it.” The engineer commented. 

“Yeah? That’s great.” Eddie replied, his eyes on Richie as he approached. 

He leaned up to kiss him, such an easy activity that still drove Richie wild. They could do it so easily. Just kiss because they could. Because they were dating. They were fucking in love. 

Richie deepened the kiss ever so slightly. It was enough to get the attention of both Eddie and the engineer and the latter swiftly left the room, giving the two men the privacy Richie sought.

He pulled back and patted the spot next to him, making Eddie sit down, a slight frown on his features. “Richie, is everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” the other replied out of instinct. “No, I guess… I need to talk to you about something.”

“You said you didn’t want to break up,” Eddie was quick to say. 

“No! It’s not that! I don’t want to break up. But… but you’re going on tour for three months. And I am so so excited for you, don’t get me wrong. But I’m gonna miss you.”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “Is that it? You’re gonna miss me? Rich, if that’s-“

“That’s not it,” Richie interrupted him. “I know how life on tour is. I’ve been told all about it. And you’re sexy and the people there are sexy. And I’m just a mediocre writer who isn’t even a four in the sexy spectrum. I trust you wholeheartedly but I don’t trust the others.”

The musician sighed and took his boyfriend’s hands. “Is that it? That’s why you’re all sulky? Cause you’re gonna miss me and you’re scared someone will try and get in my pants?”

Well, once you put it like that, it did sound kind of exaggerated. “Yeah, it’s that.”

“Richie, if that is what’s worrying you, why don’t you come with me?” Eddie offered with a little shrug. 

“You’d want me there? You want me there. Cause if it’s just out of pity I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I’d love to have you there, Richie. Just stop doubting what I say when you’re like this. I’d never lie or do something out of pity. I didn’t do it back when we were kids and I won’t start now.”

Richie smiled and nodded. “Cause you can change your mind. If you don’t want me to go, you can change-“

“Geez, stop! And I was the one who rambled like mad back in the days. Calm down. I want my boyfriend around during one of the most important periods of my life. So stop doubting it.”

Eddie was good with words and he was better on telling Richie exactly what he needed to hear. 

The writer nodded and pulled him into a sweet kiss, his hands going to rest on the other’s waist. 

But sweetness was the first thing to go. They weren’t desperate, but there was a need, a desire, they both felt after pouring their feelings out in the open, especially Richie. 

Hands started roaming, lips started tracing down their jaws and necks, teeth started biting. They needed each other more than they cared to admit at that moment.

Eddie was the one to climb on Richie’s waist, straddling his legs without even separating their lips, and Richie wasted no time in gripping at his ass.

“Wait, wait…” the writer breathed out, finally breaking the heated kiss to catch up with his breath. “I… I want to do something,” he said softly, almost shyly; which was stupid now that they were both half-hard, making out like two horny teenagers. They were horny but not teenagers anymore.

“Tell me, Rich,” the other breathed out, ghosting kisses all over his jaw and neck, his hands unbuttoning Richie’s shirt already.

Richie didn’t reply and just picked Eddie up, surprised by his strength, and walked over to the console. “How mad would your technician be if you bent me over this console and fucked me senseless?” 

That alone made the rockstar moan and shiver. “He’d have to arrange a few things, but we got it marked and, to be honest, I couldn’t care less what he thinks.”

He set Eddie back down and pulled him in for a kiss, not being surprised at all when the latter turned them over to press Richie against the console. “Wait, I didn’t bring-“

“Got everything in my bag. Don’t worry about it.”

Eddie smirked and bit the other’s neck playfully, earning a little moan from Richie. “Like a boy scout. Always ready. Were you planning on doing this, little minx?”

“I’ve just… been carrying them a few weeks ago. Can you blame me? You’re a sex god and I’m always wanting to rip your clothes off-”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Eddie kissed him deeply for a moment before pulling both of their shirts off, which Richie took as an opportunity to run his hands over Eddie’s chest.

“I fucking love your tattoos,” he commented in a hushed voice as his hands traveled down to the undo the buckle of his belt and unzip his jeans. “You’ll have to tell me the story of the ‘No dice’ one sometime.”

“Maybe later, now I just wanna fuck you,” the other argued as he worked on Richie’s jeans as well.

None said anything else after that, too caught up in the heat of the moment, too excited and nervous and horny. Shoes were kicked off, jeans and underwear were tossed aside next to their shirts, and supplies were fetched from Richie’s bag. The only thing that could be heard was their elaborated breath and Eddie’s covers playing in the background.

It wasn’t the first time Richie had sex while listening to Dr. K sing. It happened a time or two, back when Richie was desperate and need of a bit of encouragement. He couldn’t get it up properly for a lover or two and convinced them that having sex to music was a good idea. He blasted Trashmouth as loud as they could bear, allowing himself to get lost in the music as he gave it his all. 

Now he was here, giving himself fully to Eddie, allowing the man to give it his all. 

He didn’t bottom often. He proudly labeled himself a service top who would do anything to please the person under him but there was just something about Eddie that drove him fucking wild. 

The hair, the eyes, the tattoos. He was Richie’s punk rock wet dream. He would get into his knees nightly if he asked him to. He hoped Eddie asked him to. Give Eddie any hole he requested. Richie never considered himself a cockslut but for Eddie, he would be. Could anyone blame him?

It felt like everything was happening in slow motion and yet in the same way, way too fucking quickly. Eddie used those deft fingers to open him up, starting with one and then another. Oh, the nights Richie saw him play and imagined how those fingers must feel deep inside him. And here he was, with those fingers deep inside him working their magic. Eddie took his time, allowing Richie to stretch open properly. The last thing either of them wanted was for their first time together to be painful. 

Some people would say that their first time being at a music studio wasn’t ideal, but it was perfect for them. I mean, every place was perfect as long they were together, as cheesy that may sound. 

Once he was stretched properly, Richie held his breath as the other plunged right in, almost knocking every single thought out of Richie’s mind. Richie had not expected any of this to happen but when it did he felt like he could taste the fucking stars. They were hot and delicious, and so very, very good. Nothing could ever match the feeling. 

Eddie was talking to him during. Leave it to Eddie to be the talkative one during sex. He was praising Richie to kingdom come, making him feel like the most worthy human being on the planet. Richie didn’t have a praise kink but good lord, he could develop quickly if they kept on like that. 

Richie mostly remained quiet, except for the occasional little moan of Eddie’s name or groan that escaped his lips, his mind too focused on how good it felt. Eddie had one hand in his hip, surely leaving marks by how hard he was gripping, while the other was wrapped around his cock, pumping it in time with each of his thrusts. 

He sucked and nibbled at Richie’s neck, surely marking him in a very improper way which was gonna show and his workmates were gonna tease him about. He had given Richie a hickey once, right when they started getting hot and heavy in their relationship. He had told Richie he wanted every single person at Paper Boat to know what they do, and if that wasn’t the sexiest thing Richie didn’t know what was.

Eddie had always been a possessive little fuck, even back when they were innocent kids. Dating in secret was hard but it became nearly impossible when you couldn’t openly be jealous of the other boys around you. Possessive! Eddie was an adorable feat and Richie was glad to know that was one of the things his Eddie took with him to adulthood. 

Richie wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to hold it together. The sounds of their moaning and Eddie’s lips at his ear nibbling at the lobe, combined with the sweet sounds of Eddie’s singing on a loop in the background were enough to have Richie falling off the edge, messing up the control panel. 

Eddie smirked and let go of his cock to bring his hand to his lips and lick his boyfriend’s cum off his fingers, making sure Richie saw from above his shoulder. He was giving a show for his boyfriend and fuck he was enjoying every single second of it. 

After his little performance, the musician took his now free hand to also grip on Richie’s hips and started thrusting faster, seeking his orgasm. Which didn’t make itself wait long, making him hide his face on the crook of the other’s neck and moan his name softly, almost like a prayer? 

They stayed like that, Richie leaning on the control board and Eddie pressed against him, catching their breaths as they came down from their high. 

“I can’t believe we waited so long for this,” Richie finally broke the silence. “What a way to celebrate Valentine's Day, huh?” 

“We’ll have to make up for it, no doubt.” Eddie kissed Richie’s shoulder softly a few times and straightened up, pulling out to take out the condom and tie it up carefully to toss it in the trash. “I’ll make sure to take the trash out myself.”

“How long till we go home?” Richie interrupted him as he slowly walked to his clothes; he loved the burn he felt and he wanted more of it. 

“Oh, baby, eager for more?” The other teased with a smirk while he got dressed, watching the others do the same. “I can leave now. Well, after we clean up that console. Can we repeat this some other time?”

“You can bet your sweet ass we will. We have to celebrate you finish the recording,” Richie replied and rolled his eyes jokingly, going to clean up the mess he made. 

Eddie just leaned against the wall and watched him, smiling. “Want to order pizza when we get home?”

“See? This is why I love you. Sex and pizza.” He walked over and kissed him softly, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist. “But promise that no pineapple will touch my pizza.”

Eddie sighed woefully, shaking his head. “The things I do for love,” he mentioned with a small shake of his head, tipping his head up to sneak a gentle kiss before peeling away so he could begin cleaning up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Richie just take it up the ass while Eddie's song played in the background? 
> 
> Yes. Yes, he did. 
> 
> Please tell us what you thought about that in the comments. We crave your comments. I mean honestly, do you have ANY idea how many times we had to listen to this song on repeat while writing that scene?


	16. Heartless - Kris Allen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The truth of what happened to Eddie finally comes out.

_**In the night, I hear 'em talk  
The coldest story ever told  
Somewhere far along this road, he lost his soul to a woman so heartless  
How could you be so heartless?  
Oh, how could you be so heartless?** _

Richie didn’t know what he wanted from his life. He could be selfish and say he wanted to be rich, and popular, and powerful. And to a degree, he was all of that. He made a very good living working at Paper Boat. He had a decent amount of followers on social media. And after his last article, Bill was giving him more responsibility on his writing tasks. 

So in theory, Richie had everything he could have ever wanted. 

But those were all generic, rational ideals. Things everybody wanted. Things everybody craved. But Richie wanted more. He wanted to be unrealistic. 

He wanted to be happy. 

And he was. 

And that was all thanks to Eddie. 

They were living dangerously, not giving a damn about what anybody thought. Eddie worked on his album and Richie worked on his last assignment. They stayed up late, sitting on Richie’s couch eating take out or, on the rare moment, stand in the kitchen and cook together. 

They had sex often because they were grown adults with a lot of pent up sexual aggression. They found a good rhythm between who topped and who bottomed. They made each other feel good as often as possible.

They constantly reminded the other that they loved them. It was truly baffling that they could go from bending the other over, pulling their hair, and biting their skin to cuddling in the too tiny bed, foreheads together as shy kisses were exchanged. 

They went on dates, and held hands in public, and weren’t nervous about who was watching. Sure, people were watching but it wasn’t out of hatred and being in a small town. People loved the idea of them. Richie’s Twitter and Instagram account skyrocketed soon enough and he was fine with that. 

Some people weren’t very keen on their relationship. Not only the homophobic assholes of the world but other fans of Dr. K. They thought he wasn’t good enough or somehow blamed him for Dr. K’s departure from the band. Richie never took it seriously. 

Ain’t nobody was going to tell him that he wasn’t good enough for Eddie. It took a damn long time but Richie has finally come to realize that he and Eddie were made for each other. Rockstar or not, he wasn’t better or worse than Eddie. 

Granted Eddie was a way better person than him but Richie thought that when they were kids too. Eddie was like this pure beam of sunlight in the darkness of their hometown. This pure angel that Richie would die for or kill for or both. Kill everybody and then kill himself. 

But ain’t nobody going to come into his house and say he wasn’t good enough for him. Maybe that’s true but good lord he was going to do everything he could to make him happy. 

Did he take advantage and post random ass things online as a gentle way to humblebrag? Perhaps. But he was only human. Can’t blame him. He was dating the sexiest man in the universe but goddammit if he wants to post a goofy picture then he will.

He was happy and maybe it was too good to be true. Maybe the ball will eventually drop and he’ll be left all alone again. Richie wouldn’t have been surprised. He couldn’t deny it. He wouldn’t deny it. If that was what the world wanted then so be it but he’d be damned if he went down without a fight. 

He was a determined motherfucker and he was proud of it. 

Richie had gotten comfortable with Eddie’s routine, respecting his choice to go running in the early, early hours. Sometimes Richie would join him, which was funnier than any joke he could ever make. Richie wasn’t out of shape but he wasn’t a runner, even if he did have very long legs. 

After a bit, Eddie decided that going together constantly was just a waste so he chose to only ask him when he was feeling a bit lonely. The rest of the time, Eddie would go on his own and leave Richie to sleep. 

Sometimes Richie would wake up before he returned and they’d shower together. Shower sex was dangerous and dumb, and oh so fucking hot.

If Richie Tozier was gonna die, he wanted to die balls deep inside the man he loved. 

Other times Eddie would crawl back into bed and they’d snuggle together or make slow, sweet love in the wee hours. 

They had a good thing going and Richie couldn’t be happier. 

He slept fondly this very particular day, waking only when he heard his phone go off. Nobody who knew him that well would call him this early so he knew it had to be important. He pushed himself up against the pillows, not bothering with his glasses as his thumb slid across the screen. 

“Dick speaking,” he answered, trying to disguise his sleepy voice. 

“Is that how you answer your mother?” Maggie’s voice came from the other side of the line. 

“Oh, hey mom. Sorry, I don’t have my glasses on. I was sleeping, you see, like normal people at this time.”

“Shush you, it’s almost seven, you should be up and working. Anyway, I was calling you about something in particular,” she started, a bit hesitant, as if she didn’t know how to say it. 

“Shoot,” was all that Richie offered as he made his way to the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. 

“Why the hell were you on TMZ?”

Richie almost spits his coffee at that, choking a bit. Did she say  _ TMZ _ ? “Wait, mom, what?” “He asked in between coughs. 

“Your father was flipping through the channels and settled on it. There was a picture of you and that rockstar. Dr. K or whatever his name is. When were you going to tell us you were seeing someone?” 

“I’m a busy guy mother, please excuse my late admission,” Richie mentioned, rolling his eyes as he sat down at the small table in the kitchen.

“Tell me now then, Richard.” She said, using the same tone she’d use all those years ago, back when he was just a dumb kid in Derry who did stupid shit for fun.

“I’m dating someone, okay?” 

“Someone who happens to be quite famous.” 

“Only part-time.” He admitted. “Look, I know this is going to sound little nuts, but Dr. K is just a stage name.”

“You’re kidding!” 

“See? This is where I get my sarcasm from. It’s Eddie, mom. He just uses Dr. K when performing.” 

“Eddie? Eddie who?”

“Eddie Kaspbrak, mom. My childhood best friend?” He mentioned, pausing after a moment. “The kid with the inhaler who always used to stuck up to dad because he had no cavities.” 

“I remember, Richard. I’m just surprised is all.” 

“You’re surprised, imagine being me! Little Eddie Kaspbrak grew up to be a hunk!” 

“Not about that. The last time I spoke to Sonia Kaspbrak, she informed me she had sent Eddie to a conversion camp.” 

This time around, he did do a spit-take. He had always been very good at projecting and covered the entire table with spit and coffee. 

“What do you mean conversion camp?” He demanded, the cold coffee dripping from his chin.

“You’re the gay one, Richie. I don’t think I should have to explain what those are.” 

“I know what they are, Christ. I meant what do you mean she sent him to one?” 

“Are you surprised? Sonia Kaspbrak hasn’t always been the most accepting parent. God, I remember all the trouble she used to cause at the PTA meetings. I can only imagine what that poor boy went through.” 

“When did she tell you this?” 

“Years ago. We were at the supermarket and I was trying to make friendly conversation and find out what exactly happened to him. She was from a one-person income, Richie. Private schools were expensive, even when, so your father and I were rather skeptical.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Richie, sweetie, I’m sorry, but you got a lot going on and I didn’t want to add insult to injury.”

“Mom, I had a lot going on cause my boyfriend and best friend disappeared from planet earth! Fuck.” He was about to lose his goddamn mind and he had the right to. 

“Richard Tozier, you might be almost thirty but you watch your mouth with your mother. Besides, she told me you made her son gay, to begin with so you can only imagine what my reaction might have been.” 

“You know that’s bulls- that’s not possible mom.”

“Darling, I know it’s not possible but she was blaming you! Come on… he wore those shorts and a fanny pack, that was already set in stone.”

“You should have told me,” Richie mentioned, standing to his feet. 

“Does he still have those fanny packs?” She asked curiously.

“Mom, not the time for that!” Richie snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll find out okay?” He added as he wiped clean the counter, using that chemical thingy Eddie always used. “Look, he deleted his former existence and solely goes by Dr. K so try to keep quiet.” 

“Fine, but now I’ll have nothing to talk about while at book club.” 

“Talk about your fucking book, mother. And what do you do if anybody comes around asking about us?”

“Something vulgar, as always.” 

“Good girl.” 

“It would be lovely to see him again, you know. Perhaps when your father and I come to visit you could bring him around?” 

“We sort of live together mom, so. Kind of hard to avoid him being around.” 

“I’ve missed your sarcasm dear. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Richie tossed his phone onto the counter, going back to cleaning up the table before Eddie came back. 

He tried to think it all over and connect the dots. Eddie had been very secretive about his past, even after they had become more intimate and personal. Richie didn’t want to push, didn’t want to force anything. Eddie could tell him in his own time if that was what he wanted.

But this wasn’t something Richie could ignore. Wasn’t something that his mom could say so casually and then drop like it didn’t even matter. 

It wasn’t long after that Eddie returned home, eagerly pulling off his tee-shirt which at this point was drenched in sweat. Eddie stood in his living room, in nothing more than his running shorts, which were obnoxiously short, his sensible sneakers, and the headband he had to keep his hair from sticking to his face. 

He was talking a mile a minute and while Richie would normally lean into his urge to silence him with a kiss and bring him back to the bedroom or more realistically, push him right onto the couch, Richie couldn’t stop the words from slipping from his mouth. 

“My mom called me.” He confessed suddenly. “She saw us together and I told her who you were and she said something . . . Eddie, I have respected your privacy for as long as I could but this isn’t something I can just sweep under the rug. Eddie, why did your mom tell my mom she sent you to a gay conversion camp?” 

Eddie stood there, baffled by the sudden conversation switch. He shrugged, not having much of a reaction. “Because she did?” He answered. 

It wasn’t the answer Richie expected. He thought there’d be some denying or maybe some tears. Instead, Eddie just looked at Richie like he was stating the obvious. 

“She blamed me for turning you gay.”

“Shit Rich, I could have told you that.” Eddie sighed. 

“You should have. Fuck Eddie, this entire time my parents knew what had happened to you and I didn’t know a single thing.” 

“It’s not a fun story to tell, Rich.”

“It’s a story regardless. I went on thinking she fucking sent you to Canada or had you killed or tested on. The second worst scenario that could have happened to you did happen and I would have liked to know about it.” 

Eddie shifted the weight from one leg to the other. He opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut, realizing he didn’t know what to say. “Just . . . wait.” He muttered finally, going off to the room that had originally been his own. 

They now shared Richie’s room as the bed was just slightly larger, though Eddie still used the other to keep his chosen belongings in.

Richie moved to sit on the couch, waiting just as Eddie requested of him. When the other man returned, he was dressed properly and the headband was gone. He moved tentatively, going to sit on the other side of the couch.

They were both quiet for a long moment. Almost too long. The silence was deafening and Richie didn’t know how long he’d be able to last. Thankfully, Eddie spoke before he could break. 

“After my mom caught us, she sent me to a private school out of state,” Eddie claimed quietly. “I was only there for a small time. I had a lot of trouble and I got into a lot of fights. We ended up fighting and I told her I wasn’t going to change. I’d always like boys, even if she took you out of the equation. After that, I went to a boarding school.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie.” Richie groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“It was a lot of Jesus. Super religious. I think I still have marks where nuns hit me with a ruler if I spoke out or did anything that was against the rules. I stayed there for a bit, but I still wouldn’t break down so, after that, my mom sent me to a conversion camp.” 

“It’s . . . exactly what you think it is. They fuck with your libido and make you watch porn, and if you get a boner, they shock you. There were a lot of electrotherapies there.” 

“Your fucking album. You named your fucking album . . . fuck, Eddie!”  _ Shock Treatment _ had been the first album Richie bought from Trashmouth. It was filled with punk rage, angst, and the undeniable amounts of lust. That album spoke to Richie’s soul, though now he just felt sick thinking about it.

“Gotta admit, it’s pretty clever.” 

“Oh fuck you, dude,” Richie muttered, lacking any real venom in his words.

“I ran away a couple of times. That last time was after my eighteenth birthday, so when they brought me back, I was legally allowed to leave, and I did. I walked out with nothing and when I saw my mother, I told her I never wanted to see her again. I took the money my dad left for me and booked it to New York. The rest is history.”

“Did you ever see her again? Your mom?” 

Eddie shook his head. “I found out she died a week after it happened. This was before I dropped the whole ‘Kaspbrak thing.’ The bank reached out to me to take care of the house but I refused to go back. I told them to keep it all. That night I went on stage and performed. It was the hardest show I ever put on. I wasn’t . . . even after everything, I couldn’t hate her, you know? I was just so fucking angry.” 

Richie knew exactly which show Eddie had been speaking of. He wasn’t there as it was out of state, but videos surfaced quickly enough. Dr. K had never been violent during a performance but he broke more than one guitar that night, smashing them hard on the stage or kicking over amplifiers in between songs. People ruled him as a diva, an asshole, or maybe even a heartbroken bastard dealing with a breakup. 

All the while it was because his mother, who had tortured him in the worst ways, had finally kicked the bucket. 

“I wasn’t trying to keep this from you, Rich. Honestly, I wasn’t. It was just so long ago, and I didn’t want to relive all those shitty memories or make you feel bad for me.” 

“I’m not gonna pity you, Eds. I’m gonna feel bad because you’re my best friend. My fucking boyfriend. You had to go through all that shit alone and I was at home, being mopey and staying in the closet until I had a mental break down.” 

“And look at us now,” Eddie offered. “Come on. We’re better than this, Rich. We can leave that shit behind and look to the future.” 

“You see a future with me?” Richie asked, a smile creeping on his lips. 

“Oh baby, you are my future.” Eddie laughed softly. “And I’m yours. We’re a power couple, Rich; everything that camp did to me was in vain.” 

Richie reached out, taking Eddie’s hand in his own. “I wish I had been there.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. It’s over now, Rich. I’m not angry anymore. No longer filled with hate. I just want to be happy. I just want to be with you.” 

Richie leaned in then, kissing him softly. It wasn’t full of lust, or need, or the promise of more. It was simple and full of love, just like Richie himself. 

Eddie settled beside him when they broke apart, his head going to rest against Richie’s chest. It wasn’t what Richie had expected to hear, but he was glad he knew the truth at last. And while letting go of the past would be hard, he’d make it work for Eddie. Make it work so they could have their future together. 

“Do you still own a fanny pack?” He asked suddenly, causing Eddie to look up at him. “Just curious, is all.” 

“I do actually. It’s Gucci.” He admitted, going to rest his head back down, hugging Richie close to him. 

Richie could only snort, shaking his head because that was just so on-brand for him. He sighed, kissing the top of Eddie’s head as he gave in fully to the cuddle that was being offered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right you gremlins, I want to see some comments. This shit isn't easy, you know. Do you have any idea how many times I had to listen to Kris Allen/Kayne West sing that fucking song for this chapter so I could get into the right mindset? At least repay us by commenting down below.


	17. Gotta Tell You - Samantha Mumba

**_Don't want to love you if you don't love me_ **   
**_Don't want to need you when you won't need me too_ **   
**_Don't want to tell you this now, but it wouldn't be right_ **   
**_If I didn't tell you this tonight_ **

Richie knew nothing could last forever. 

The honeymoon bliss that he and Eddie settled into was nice but nothing but make-believe. The reality was hitting them again and again and while it was great to believe that their love could be a shield that would protect them, Richie knew better. 

He watched as Eddie got the call that his house was finally settled. Ben was good on his word about turning the mansion into something more than just a place to show off. Eddie wasn’t going to be on the next episode of Cribs, so he didn’t have anything he needed to be proud of. 

It was at home. Eddie’s home. 

Richie went with him to check it out and then popped over again when the movers finally showed up. They set everything up the way Eddie wanted and Richie felt like he had been sent back in time. 

Eddie was talking a mile a minute, instructing the movers on where to put what. He was wearing shorts that weren’t the shortest he had ever worn but they showed off his legs nicely enough, and a polo that was tight against his chest. 

He looked so out of character but then again, that was the point. Eddie wasn’t always Dr. K. At home, he was just Eddie. So he could look any way he wanted. Wear whatever he wanted. 

And Richie loved it. 

And he found he would miss it terribly when he was gone. Richie sat in the California king bed that he and Eddie had picked out and hugged one of the pillows that you didn’t sleep with to his chest. He watched as Eddie paced back and forth, going on and on about how he suddenly realized he hated the color in one of the rooms. 

It was a very kitch color. Boring to say the least. Richie didn’t mind it but Eddie wanted to use it for his writing room and the color was just too bleak for him. He wanted if repainted but also wanted to set the room up so, you could see the dilemma. 

Richie must have zoned out as he found Eddie snapping his fingers at him. “Are you even listening? I swear to God, if you’re fucking daydreaming again, I’ll push you into the pool!” Eddie threatened, his mannerisms and expressions seeming to come straight from Richie’s memory. 

“Huh? No. Sorry.” 

“I’m going to pay them overtime to paint it tonight but we have to settle on a color.” 

“Why don’t you just do that chalkboard paint we saw at the store? You can write all your lyrics on the wall.” 

“And deal with the chalk dust? No thank you. Besides all, you would do is draw oversized dicks everywhere.” 

“Pick a color you like Eddie,” Richie said, going to lean back against the bed. 

“It has to be a color we both like Rich if we are both going to use it.” 

“You don’t have to give me a room to write in, Eds. This is your house.” 

“It’s your house too dumbass.” Eddie reminded him. 

Richie rolled his eyes saying nothing. Yeah, it was his boyfriend's house but it wasn’t his. Not really. He’d be welcome to stay over but he had no claim over it. 

“What time is the mover coming tomorrow?” 

“Seven, I think?” Richie asked, groaning at the idea of waking up just to watch Eddie leave. 

“And did you pack yet?” Eddie questioned, his hands on his hips as if judging him, which he probably was. 

“You said you’d do it yourself.” 

“I’d pack my shit but what about yours? You don’t have to take everything in one day, but it’s not like you have that much anyway.” 

“Why would I need to pack?” 

“Because our house is ready? I know you have the apartment for another few weeks but I don’t see why you’d want to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“To move in,” Eddie said, his eyes widening like Richie was speaking in riddles. “Are you kidding me right now? I swear to God when I sucked you off the other night did you cum your brains out?” 

“I mean yeah but….”

“Richie!” Eddie snapped. He started laughing then, going to sit on the edge of the bed. “Richie, you signed off on the house, remember?”

Richie blinked. He remembered Eddie talking to him about something and then Ben coming over and then him signing something though, to be honest, it was also right after he had fucked Eddie into the mattress so his brain was dead at that point. 

“Oh.” Was all he could say. 

“Oh?” Eddie laughed, shaking his head. “Richie, we picked out this bed together.” 

They had gone together, messing around like a couple of teenagers who were jumping up and down on the beds at the store. They were decent enough to take off their shoes, but it didn’t matter. They were utterly ridiculous and they found a bed that was perfect for them. Not too soft, not too firm. Perfect for them to both sleep on and large enough for Richie to stretch out on. 

Richie didn’t think much of it. They were dating, so obviously he’d sleepover a time or two, so when Eddie was so adamant on them going to pick it out, he just followed along like the good boyfriend he was. 

“In my defense, I tend to shut down during moments of sorrow and I was very depressed without expresso about the idea of you leaving,” Richie admitted in a low voice. 

“How the fuck do you have a career in writing?” Eddie laughed, leaning down to kiss him. 

“Bill hired me out of pity,” He admitted easily. “So. We’re gonna move in together, huh? Moving pretty fast, don’t you think?” 

He meant it as a joke and he was glad to see Eddie didn’t take him all too seriously. He held his hand and laced their fingers, toying with the digits as they relaxed together on the oversized bed. 

“We’ve missed a lot, Rich. Seventeen years of this. Sometimes I think about what could have happened if we weren’t ripped apart. The journeys we could have taken together.” Eddie shook his head, a sad smile crossed his lips. 

Richie thought about it often. The moment that had destroyed everything for them. It had been so simple. They were in his basement, listening to music. Richie’s mom called up that Eddie’s mom was there to pick him up. They took their time collecting all the records, putting them back in the proper sleeves. They must have taken too long, because the next thing they knew, Sonia was downstairs, shouting for Eddie to hurry up. 

She saw it happen. The innocent kiss that they had shared. It was nothing more than a playful peck between two kids, but it was enough for Sonia to lose her fucking mind. She dragged Eddie away, up the stairs, out of the house, and out of Richie’s life for a very, very long time. 

“I don’t want to beat around the bush anymore, Rich. Don’t want to walk on eggshells and hope for the best. I just want to be with you.” 

It should have been so simple. Boy meets boy. Boy loves boy. Boy and boy get together and be happy. Overthinking it wasn’t going to do either of them any good and wasting more time wasn’t going to make these decisions more meaningful. They were happy. They were in love. 

Everything else was confetti. 

Richie took Eddie’s hand, pulling it into his chest as he held it tightly. “I’m yours, Eds. Nothing will change that.” He added, smiling when Eddie leaned up to kiss him. 

“Good. And I’m yours for the rest of our mortal life and eternity, but you haven’t packed and I know you also procrastinate as your life depended on it. So you better go back to your apartment and start packing,” Eddie said sternly before pecking his lips. “And we have to settle on a color.”

Richie stared at him for a few moments, as if in a trance. And he knew he had to say something before Eddie went in full-on rant mode, but he just couldn’t help it. He was there, with his best friend and boyfriend, sitting on their bed, and he could finally start thinking about their future. Cause Eddie included him in this, even though he was an idiot who signed something without even reading it. 

“What about purple?” He settled on saying, instead of all the emotional shit that was going through his brain. “Reminds me of Prince.”

“Could do with purple. I’ll let them know and then we can go.” He said as he stood up. 

“Hey, Eds, do you think you-“

“No, you’re packing your stuff.” Eddie interrupted him with a smirk. 

“How do you know me so well?”

“I know you’re a lazy ass.”

Richie rolled his eyes, a smile still on his lips, and stood up, kissing Eddie’s temple as he walked out to the car. 

This was their house. Eddie’s and his. Together. Fuck. Maybe life could be a bit good. He didn’t want to get used to it though, but he was going to enjoy the ride while it lasted. 

The first part of the moving itself was easy. Yes, he had to get everything wrapped nicely in boxes first -Dr. K’s orders- but everything else was handled by the movers. God bless them. The second part of the moving though, not so pretty. As he was dating Eddie, he had to put everything in place before he even dared to put his ass down on the sofa.

And he didn’t plan it, but symbolism and drama surrounded him, so the last thing he took out of the boxes and set on his -check that out- office, was the framed signed copy Hot space.

“You sure you want me here?” Richie asked as he walked back to the living room and sitting next to his boyfriend. 

“You’re insufferable at times, Rich. Yes, I want you here, that’s why I made you sign off the papers.” Eddie insisted without looking up from his journal. “I know it’s still new but we have a lot to make up for and even more time to adjust. But we’ll be fine.” He finally looked up and smiled.

And Richie believed him. At least for now.

Their routine didn’t change much after the moving, just that they now had a bigger bed and a bigger kitchen and Richie had his office he could work at when Eddie was down in the studio. But they were the same, just with a bigger place. 

Which, it felt kind of empty or lonely at times and Richie swore that there was an echo following him everywhere. But Eddie was so happy about them having their place that he didn’t want to mention it and bum him out.

“Could you please take out the trash?” Eddie asked as he finished putting the dishes in the washer.

“Eds, it’s pouring outside. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Richie asked with a little pout, and yeah, he should have seen it coming.

“It’s full, Rich, and we can’t have a bin full of trash in the kitchen, do you know the number of germs and-”

“Fine! Fine! I’ll take it out, but if I get the flu, you’re the one to blame. And I’m kissing you while I’m sick,” he threatened him with a smirk before he put on a hoodie and grabbed the bag.

Eddie was already settled on the couch when he came back, all cozy and fucking dry. “Was that too bad? It was just two seconds.”

Richie walked slowly inside, arms across his chest, and didn’t say anything back to Eddie. Everything was going smoothly until… until the damn thing decided to mewl, which made Eddie frown up at him. “Did you just mewl at me?”

“No. That would be ridiculous, Spaghetti. Why would I do that?”

“Richie, what do you got in there?” He asked as he saw the little bump on Richie’s hoodie.

“Nothing.”

And it decided to meow again. ‘Thank you, darling, I was trying to save you.’ Richie thought to himself.

“Richie.”

“I meowed. It was me.” Richie tried.

“I mean, you are weird, but not that weird. Show me the cat.”

“Fine! She was soaking wet next to the bins and she was alone, Eddie! She looked terrified.” He explained as he uncovered the black cat and held it protectively to his chest. “Please, let her stay until tomorrow.”

Eddie set his phone aside and stood up, approaching them with an unreadable expression, looked up at Richie, then at the cat and finally, he stroked behind her ears. “We should dry her up and wrap her up in a blanket. I can take the morning off tomorrow to take her to the vet.”

Richie’s face broke into a grin and nodded. “We can do that, yeah. She’s adorable and you should have heard how she purred when I put her in my hoodie.”

“We’re getting a cat, huh?” The musician murmured and reality hit Richie like a truck. 

“Technically we already have one,” Richie mentioned to him. “She made herself comfortable by our garbage cans, though I think she’d like the house more.”

“We should think of a name, don’t you think?” Eddie asked with a smile, looking up at him. And upon seeing his boyfriend’s expression, he sighed. “You got a name already.”

“Yup.”

Eddie stared up at him straight in the eye and sighed. “You’re naming her Hot Space, aren’t you?”

“I would never-“

“Rich.”

“Yeah, I’m naming her Hot Space.”

The musician chuckled and shook his head, standing on his tiptoes to peck his boyfriend’s lips. “I’ll go get towels for both of you, you can cuddle next to the fireplace while you wait.”

“Yes, sir.” Richie grinned and went to sit on the floor next to the fire with their new cute addition to the family curled up in his lap. 

Soon after, Eddie joined them and handed Richie a towel before he carefully dried off Hot space, not wanting to move her too much from Richie’s lap. 

The writer watched him carefully and smiled as he dried his hair off. That there was his little family with his childhood sweetheart and their new adopted daughter. Yup, everything was going to be fine. He knew it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you're old enough to even that the song picked for this chapter. Fun fact, it was lowkey the inspiration for this story. Like, could you imagine a punk cover of that song? Ugh, chefs kiss. 
> 
> Chapters are winding down my friends. Not long soon. Not long soon at all.


	18. I Want It That Way - Steel Panther

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you should obviously check out every single song the titles are named after because they're literally Dr. K's tracklist, however, please do check out that Steel Panther cover. It's amazing. Like. Listen to it and think of James Ransone. You're welcome.

**_You are my fire_ **   
**_The one desire_ **   
**_You are_ **   
**_You are you are you are_ **

Richie didn’t know how it happened. 

Okay, he sort of did. 

He posted on Instagram. Not that big of a deal, since his Instagram had been going on for some time before now, but it wasn’t like it was popular. He had friends and family who followed him. People who followed the magazine and all that shit. Bill Nye followed him, though he was 90% sure that was because of the piece he had done a few years back on the environment. 

Long story short, he didn’t post often, but he posted enough. 

Not enough for him to have a huge following or even a private account. He wasn’t verified of anything of the sort. 

Until now. 

The moment he had posted a picture of Eddie and decided to tag him in it, Richie woke up to hundreds of new followers, endless amounts of DMs, and a pretty blue checkmark next to his account. 

He didn’t post the picture to make him and Eddie ‘Instagram official’ or whatever the kids called it. He posted it because despite being an international superstar, Eddie was his boyfriend and Richie wanted to keep his relationship as normal and down to earth as possible, and that meant posting pictures. 

Of course, the world exploded at the sight of that adorable and gorgeous guy lying in bed with a kitty on his chest. Fuck, Richie’s heart had a hard-on for the moment, so of course, the Dr. K and Trashmouth fans would love it. After all, who didn’t love some homosexual domestic bliss? 

Of course, the moment people began seeing that they were, in fact, a couple, the questions came flooding in. Richie thought about ignoring them, but what would be better than totally throwing everyone off and instead choosing to answer a few of them? 

Richie held the phone out, deciding that the best way to do this would be on Instagram live. He let all his new twitter followers know that way they could jump on board and waited until Eddie was home from recording and settled in so they could do this together. 

Eddie was settled down on the couch, Hot Space nuzzling against him, obviously eager for the attention that the rockstar was willing to give. “Whose good kitty? Oh, I think it’s you. Is it you? It is you!” Eddie spoke in a gentle voice, kissing Hot Space’s nose. 

“See this shit, America? This is what your precious Prince of Darkness is like off stage.” 

“Don’t call me that, I don’t want to get sued by Ozzy Osborne.” 

“Oh right. Doctor of Darkness?” Richie offered, plopping down beside him. He set the phone up so it was shooting them both and held up the index cards he had written up with all the questions on them. “So, my new followers had begun bombarding me with interesting questions about our romance.” 

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“I am but a humble servant to the masses, my love, so who am I to deny the people what they want?” 

“None of their business, but go off I guess.” 

Richie snorted, adjusting his glasses carefully before lifting a card. “Question one, what do you call Dr. K in bed? Straight to the juicy stuff, aren’t you?”

“Christ, Richie.” Eddie sighed. 

“Christ is my given name. It switches back and forth between Daddy and Dr. Good Dick. Question two, how long have you been together? Our entire lives. Question three, who tops and bottoms. Dude, we don’t even have a bunk bed.” Richie replied quickly, as he did when he either got excited or nervous or both. 

“I hate you so much sometimes.” 

“Aw, come on Doc! We’re having fun! Question four, what is it like dating someone totally out of your league? It’s weird, honestly. I feel like I’m cheating the system or some shit.” He replied with a little shrug. 

“I think that question was meant for me.” The musician commented with a little smirk. 

“Awe, you’re cute. Dumb, but cute.” Richie flung the index card away and yelped as Hot Space jumped off his lap to attack it on the floor. 

“Gimme one,” Eddie took the cards, picking through them to find the questions he liked. “Okay, this one. Five, if you get married, who will take whose last name?” 

“Richie K does sound kind of cool.” 

“Dr. Tozier.” Supplied Eddie. 

“Oh gross. You’d be like my fucking dad, dude. No. I’m taking yours.” Richie paused, looking at all the comments that were being sent in through the live chat. His eyes settled on one that mentioned that “Dr. K” wasn’t Eddie’s legal name so Richie wouldn’t even have to take that. “Dr. K is, in fact, his legal name. I can show you his driver's license if you don’t believe me.” 

“You won’t be doing anything of the sort,” Eddie replied quickly. 

Richie shrugged easily. “Doctor’s orders.” He decided, grabbing another index card. “Number six, do you plan on becoming parents? Already trying, my guy. The moment either of us is pregnant, you’ll be the first to know.” 

“Eventually I think we’ll have kids. We’d be good parents.” Eddie commented, shoving his boyfriend playfully. 

“Babe, you’d be an amazing parent,” Richie mentioned gently. “God, we’re so soft. See you fuckers! Your Doctor of Darkness is nothing but a softy deep inside.” 

“I mean, half the songs on the album are love ballads.”

“Dedicated to me. Because I am the love of your life.” 

“You are the love of my life,” Eddie replied easily. 

Richie placed his hand over his heart, pouting. “Baby, I was joking. Fuck. Don’t make me cry on Instagram Live. That’s not punk at all.” 

“Okay, hold up,” Eddie said, sitting up ever so slightly on the couch. “I work in the punk industry, and I will be the first to say that crying is incredibly punk. Punk is anything that does against the norm, so a guy being in touch with his emotional side is probably the most punk thing out there.” 

“You heard it here folks! Straight from the Doctor of Darkness’ mouth.”

“Oh my God, stop calling me that.” Eddie groaned.

“Your next solo album should be called Doctor of Darkness. Fuck, I want that to be trending. Everyone who is now watching this, please tweet hashtags DoctorofDarkness!” 

“Can I please release the first album before doing the other?” 

“And everybody streams his album when it comes out!” Richie paused, turning his head look to Eddie. “Can we drop the title?” 

“What, right now?” 

“If Doctor of Darkness is number one of the trending page on twitter, I’ll get this little bastard to drop the title of his album.” Richie offered with a huge grin on his lips. 

“I’m very average height, you asshole.” 

“Make it happen, Trashfans! Get it? Like trash cans. Because the band was named Trashmouth.” 

Eddie just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Okay bye!” 

Richie ended the life, letting it upload to his story and onto Twitter. “You do remember that I was going to drop the name of the album this weekend, right?” Eddie mentioned, reaching down to scoop Hot Space onto his lap.

“Yeah, but this is more fun. It’s more interactive, you know? Makes the fans feel like they’re apart of it.” 

“I can’t believe we did that,” Eddie mentioned, though he was smiling as he spoke. “We’re not bad at it, you know. The whole ‘being a couple in the limelight’ thing.” 

“I don’t think Instagram counts as limelight. We’ll see how we survive when award show season comes around.” 

“Never been nominated, so.” 

“It’s for the best. Who the fuck wants to win an award for their job? That’s just capitalism.” 

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Eddie argued. 

“Like you not being nominated. But hey, not everything’s about nominations and winnings. Look at Leo Di Caprio…”

“But he did get an Oscar in the end.”

“And who knows? Maybe you’ll get nominated in a few years.” Richie said, trying to cheer him up. 

“For an Oscar? Doubtful.”

“You could write a rad song for a movie! Baby an Oscar would look so good on the shelf. Hot Space could knock it off.”

“I still can’t believe I let you name her Hot Space.” Eddie teased, shaking his head. 

“It’s an awesome name and you know it.”

Eddie waved him off, letting the topic drop off as they went on with the rest of their day. By the end of the night, Richie got his wish and Doctor of Darkness was the top trending topic on twitter. Richie skimmed through the tweets, finding himself mostly entertained by some of the responses with people. 

Half were losing their damn minds over them, finding the whole ‘shipping’ thing to be most amusing. “Our ship name is Dr. Tozier or Richie K.” 

“Both are stupid.” Eddie mentioning as he did the dishes. 

They had a dishwasher and could very easily afford to pay someone to do the little things, but cleaning relaxed Eddie. Doing his laundry washes his issues, or just scrubbing down the floors was the way he would unwind. Richie found it to be the most on-brand thing about Eddie and didn’t argue about it once they were officially moved in. 

“Dr. T wouldn’t be too bad,” Richie mentioned, scrolling through some more. 

He had told himself that he wouldn’t get involved because honestly, the whole live chat was just for some fun but getting into any twitter fights with Trashmouth/Dr. K fans were utterly beneath him. 

Except, it didn’t seem to be beneath Eddie. 

He let Richie read aloud some of the unfavorable tweets. Most of them were actually kind of amusing, with people accusing Richie of using Eddie or saying that Eddie could do better. Richie itched to like one of those messages just so fuck with some people, but it was Eddie who made the first inaction. 

The tweet had been simple. Calling out the live feed and saying that Dr. K looked annoyed through the whole thing. They even went out of their way to screenshot a couple of moments where Eddie was just staring daggers at Richie. 

Eddie called up Bev so he could get his twitter information, downloaded the app, went to that exact tweet and made his first personal tweet throughout his career. 

“@ahardlifee I live in a state of annoyance. It’s called being in a loving relationship. You should get off Twitter try it sometime.” 

Those words plus the picture of the two of them smiling to one another (a candid picture that Bev had taken while they were out to dinner one night) was enough of a clap back to make even Richie raise a brow. 

It wasn’t unfiltered or rude. It was just a reply against something unnecessary and it made Richie love Eddie more and more. 

“Wait, you’re not supposed to annoy your significant other? Well, fuck.” He tweeted out, along with “the more you know” meme. 

It felt the two of them feeling giddy and bright, though one final thing still had to be done. Richie got what he wanted, which meant the title of the album had to be announced. 

Eddie called up Bev who came over right away, dragging Ben along with them. They sat in their pajamas, sprawled across the overly expensive couches in the sitting room, eating ice cream and drinking wine as they went over the best choice of action. 

“You could always just tweet out the title of it. Quick and simple.” Ben suggested, leaning back in the armchair with Hot Space nestled against his neck. 

“Where is your imagination, Haystack? Come on! This shit should be legendary.” Richie argued, waving his glass around dramatically. 

“If you spill that, you’re paying to have to clean.” Eddie threatened, earning the middle finger from his boyfriend. 

“You still have five days until it’s dropped. Are you sure you want to release it now?” Beverly questioned. “Stan suggested that waiting it out might be wiser.” 

“It’s just the name, Bev. Not like he’s putting it all on Spotify this very second.” 

“I want to make it good, you know? My first solo album. I don’t want to just tweet out the name and move on.” 

“He wants to watch the world burn, Bev. You gotta respect it.” 

Beverly rolled her eyes, bringing her glass back to her lips. They sat there, brainstorming as the night went on. It was getting late, though Bev and Ben agreed to stay the night, not bothering to drive home with a bit of wine buzz. They had more than enough space, after all. 

“I can’t believe this is you,” Ben mentioned later that night when they were all beginning to unwind. Richie had sent up the Alexa show because he wanted the government to hear all the dirty shit they walked about and see them too. Eddie had set it up with pictures of them because he was an adorably sappy fuck and a good portion of the pictures were from their childhood that Richie’s mom was kind enough to send over. 

The picture Ben was referring to was when they were just kids. All scrawny and small. Eddie was in his polo and had a cast on his arm from when he broke it when they were fucking around on their bikes. Richie’s glasses were thick and took over half his face. They were smiling brightly, having been celebrating Richie’s birthday. 

They were dating at that point, though they barely did a thing. Eddie had given him a comic book collection and kissed him after he opened it. It was a good night. One of the few memories that Richie cherished from his childhood. 

“That’s us. Lanky and dorky. Small and full of fury.” 

“Again, I’m not small and I never have been. You’re just a fucking giant.” Eddie commented from across the room. 

“It’s sweet, you know. Seeing the two of you like that.” 

“We look incredibly punchable. You can say it.” Eddie commented. “Everybody else did. We were known for being the punching bags of the local bullies.” 

“Well, you’re not alone,” Ben reassured them. “Back when I was a kid, I was also very punchable. I was overweight and I was obsessed with New Kids On The Block.” 

“I was poor,” Beverly mentioned. “That meant I slept around.” 

“As a kid? Christ, Bev.” Ben muttered, pulling his girlfriend in for a hug. 

“Okay so. Fat, poor, gay, and wheezy.” Richie mentioned pointing to them all. “We should form a band.” 

“I just left a band.” Eddie reminded him. 

“Dude, can I have one thing?”

“No. Welcome to our relationship bitch.” 

“Do you see how I suffer?” Richie whined, crossing the room to wrap his arms around Eddie. He kissed his neck sweetly, hugging him for just a moment, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for bed.” 

“God, you’re old.” 

“You’re not wrong, Eduardo. You are not wrong.” 

“Head up. I’ll be there in a bit.” 

Richie kissed Eddie’s hair and jogged upstairs, leaving his boyfriend alone in the living room. He knew how to announce the name of his debut album. 

He snapped a picture of one of their old photographs and searched for a recent picture Bev had taken of them while out for dinner and posted it to Twitter, along with the phrase “From Losers to Lovers. Loser/Lover. March 14th.”

He set his phone on the table and followed Richie into their bedroom; he could see the chaos he created tomorrow morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that you can actually follow Richie's Instagram (( https://www.instagram.com/the.richietozier/ )) so you can check out all the things he posts about his life with Dr. K and Hot Space. 
> 
> Please leave a comment down below to tell us what you thought. Only two more left. Christ.


	19. Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now - Starship

**_we can build this thing together_ **   
**_Standing strong forever_ **   
**_Nothing's gonna stop us now_ **   
**_And if this world runs out of lovers_ **   
**_We'll still have each other_ **   
**_Nothing's gonna stop us_ **   
**_Nothing's gonna stop us now_ **

Chaos did come. 

It came from Twitter, Instagram, and Buzzfeed, and of course TMZ. Releasing the album title the way he did was cheesy and sweet and had everybody losing their damn mind over it. 

Some people were loving this new side to Dr. K while others were disgusted by the way he had begun to change. Eddie didn’t seem to care either way. His name was being spoken and searched and people were beginning to see him as something other than a pouty punk rocker. 

Richie was proud of him, because how could he not be? Eddie was facing this head-on and what kind of boyfriend would Richie be if he didn’t hold his hand along the way. 

Just like when they were kids there would always be people who didn’t want them to be together. Richie just finally found a way to tell them to fuck off and that was by loving Eddie even harder. 

On this particular morning, he was loving him slowly. They had sex often enough after moving in together, making this place their home rather than just a fancy mansion Eddie splurged on. They were a versatile couple, each more than happy to bend over for the other. Richie never had a boyfriend that made him feel comfortable with himself and even if Eddie looked more like a work of art, Richie knew he was loved and taken care of. 

Richie was on top this time around, holding Eddie close to him as the early morning sun touched their skin through the bay window. 

He had Eddie’s face hooked in the crook of his arm, cradled ever so close to him as his hips snapped forward. They had gotten very familiar with different positions, and Richie was still very pleased to see that Eddie was as flexible as he had been when they were children. Back when doing a split was for amusement; Eddie had done it once now just to prove a point and Richie nearly busted a nut from the sight alone. 

Those legs, that were toned and tanned, were wrapped around his waist, ankles crossed just above his ass. It wasn’t the most ideal position for two grown men; their bodies pressed together with Eddie’s leaking cock smashed against his pelvis, but it allowed easy access for kissing and that was what they craved. 

They had their too hot to handle moments when one is bent over or the time Richie decided to fuck him in the shower and risk both their lives by picking him up. 

It was times like these he loved when they had the chance to take their time and take care of one another. There was no rush, no need. They were making love, as cheesy as it sounded. 

Richie’s nose was pressed against Eddie’s cheek, and sweet nothings were muttered against his lips. Promises that Richie would keep, plans that would become a reality. When his hand snaked down between then and wrapped around Eddie like his fist was made for his cock, he pumped him properly, not stopping until he coaxed his boyfriend into the orgasm they both desperately seek. 

Nothing about soaking up expensive sheets in those gorgeous sheets was enough of a nudge to get Richie to finish deep inside Eddie. They had forgoes condoms since the start, realizing they were clean and it was better for the environment. 

He didn’t pull out right away. He stayed on top of Eddie, panting deeply as he blinked hard, trying to regain whatever eyesight he had without his glasses. He always saw white when he was with Eddie, having fucked himself into blindness. 

“That...was awesome,” Eddie muttered, causing the other male to smirk widely. 

Despite them both having talent in writing, they were both always left rather speechless after fornication. 

“I’d high five you but I haven’t regained my vision yet,” Richie admitted, going to roll back on the bed. “Think the fandom would still hate me if they knew how well I fucked you?” 

“Most definitely.” Eddie chuckled.

“What if we told them I let you fuck me just as good?”

“You might be onto something.”

“Ah fuck. My back.” Richie whined, pushing himself up slightly. 

“Be careful, old man.” Eddie teased him, smiling up at Richie, who was now on his side propped up by his elbow. 

“How can someone as sexy as you, be with an old man like me?” He asked softly as he traced his fingertips over his boyfriend’s tattoos. 

“I’m older than you, dumbass. And I love you just the same.” He said softly and reached up to kiss him. 

“I still can’t believe it.” He sighed. He paused, pressing his nail gently into Eddie’s tattoo. “Tell me about them.”

Eddie glanced down at his chest and took Richie’s hands, placing them over the stars. “These were the first. I was drunk and apparently, I needed tattoos to be a punk rocker, so the tattooer at the party I was at did those.”

He then placed his boyfriend’s hand on top of his left shoulder. “Those birds were next. They represent my newly found freedom with music and my escape from my past.”

“The other ones are just a drunken mess, to be honest,” Eddie admitted with a chuckle. “Don’t look deep into them because I don’t know. Well, all of them but one.” He finally placed Richie’s hand over the center of his chest. “This one.” He sighed and looked away for a second before speaking up again. “I was touring in Las Vegas and was originally going to get two dice tattooed but this gets the message across better I think. What do you think when you first think of dice?”

Richie thought about it for a second before replying. “Gambling? Bets?”

“Exactly. Gambling.” Eddie agreed with a nod. “I always let the others gamble for me, mainly my mother. I let her decide about every single aspect of my life. Even when she pulled me away from the one I loved.” He admitted with a soft, almost broken, voice. “So when I left, I took control of my life. No more letting others decide for me and not letting others gamble with my life. Hence, No dice.”

“Fuck.” Richie breathed out, his eyes fixed on Eddie’s. “Shit, Eds. That’s- that’s deep. Thank you for trusting me with it.”

“It was time for me to do that. And I want to open up more with you.” He admitted before pulling his boyfriend down and kiss him. “We should get up and get ready for the day.”

“Shower first?” The writer asked with a little smirk. 

“You know, for an old man, you sure have a lot of stamina.”

“You’re the one to blame. You and your sexiness.” Richie laughed and kissed him before getting up and heading into the bathroom, followed closely by a very eager Eddie. 

After that they had breakfast and went their separate ways for the day, Eddie going to the studio to finish up some details of the launch and Richie… well, Richie was planning a surprise for Eddie which he was going to show him that night. 

They had dinner planned first though, not alone but with the people that had helped them the most those last few months, mostly helped Eddie to make his launch go as smoothly and as successfully as it could be. Five beautiful people.

With Richie and Eddie were seven, sitting at the restaurant to celebrate how good their lives were at that point. And as Richie looked around, that group didn’t seem like a separate group of people who just met and were glued together cause they knew only either Richie or Eddie. Nah, it looked as if they had known each other for years; joking around, teasing each other and sharing life experiences. It was truly a beautiful sight if you asked Richie. 

“So, are we allowed to call you Eddie now?” Ben asked before taking a bite of his food. 

“I can make an exception with you all. But I will have Bev to make you sign an NDA.” He joked with a little smirk, his hand holding Richie’s under the table. 

“I think everyone at this table had signed at least one of those in their life, Eds. So what is one more?” Richie commented. 

“I keep count, I signed over 200 NDAs in my career,” Stan said with a little shrug. “I mean, being a star accountant, it’s pretty common actually.”

“And now you’re a manager. You’re moving up in the world, Staniel.” Richie teased, earning a glare from the male. 

“Imagine having a magazine and having to talk to managers and such,” Bill added, rolling his eyes. 

“I don’t know if I have more tattoos or signed NDAs,” Eddie joked with a chuckle, reaching for his glass. 

“You sure have a lot of tattoo’s Eds, so that’s a hard one to know,” Bev noted, pointing at him with her fork. “Probably you compensate for our lack of tattoos. Wait, I know Ben has one but does anyone else have any anyway?”

“Wait, Ben has one?” Eddie asked, a little bit surprised. 

The man in question nodded and rolled his sleeves up to reveal it; still a bit red but visible “winter fire” was neatly done on his forearm. Seeing it made him smile and blush a little and earned a little kiss on the cheek from Bev. 

“Aw, so adorable,” Stan commented with a smile. “By the way, I don’t have tattoos. Not a friend of needles.”

“Me neither.” 

“Nope.” 

Mike and Bill added, shaking their heads. 

“I have one.” Richie interrupted, making everyone stare at him. 

“Bullshit,” Eddie commented. “I’ve seen you naked. Multiple times. There isn’t anywhere you could hide it from me.” 

“It could be under my dick.” 

“Your dick and I are very familiar with one another, Rich. I think I would have noticed.” Eddie added, taking a sip from his wine. 

“He came with me today,” Ben mentioned, placing his glass down. 

“I thought you had an appointment?” 

“Yeah, with the tattoo artist,” Richie mentioned with a bright smile. “Wanna see it?” 

“Yes, I want to see it, asshole!” Eddie didn’t notice he was on the verge of screaming, and he was grateful that they were on a private booth of the restaurant, otherwise, there were surely gonna be people staring. 

“Fine fine. Calm down, Spaghetti. You don’t want to have an asthma attack,” Richie teased him as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

He pushed it aside and there, over his left peck, right above his heart, the logo to Eddie’s first album was permanently marked on his body. 

**_Loser/Lover_ **

Everyone was silent and only murmurs of the people outside the booth could be heard as background noise. 

“Oh Jesus, please say something or I’m gonna have to book a laser removal clinic.” He said nervously. 

“This is real? It’s not like, henna or some shit?” 

“Mhm. I did this. You helped me through a lot of shit, back when we were kids, then through your music, and now you can help me to be happy every day. I’m so proud of you, and I always tell you that, but I wanted to demonstrate it better somehow. And you know how my brain works in weird ways, so this popped up.” Richie explained, looking at Eddie as the other’s gaze was glued to his new tattoo. “Besides, I’m dating a punk rocker full of tattoos, it was time I upped my game and started getting my skin inked.”

The musician finally looked up and stared for a few seconds before pulling him down into a deep kiss, clearly improper for their setting. 

“Guys, please save it for the bedroom, I want to finish my pasta,” Stan interrupted them, a smirk on his lips nonetheless. 

Eddie pulled back reluctantly and started laughing, resting his head on Richie’s shoulder. “You sure are a crazy man, Richard Tozier. And I love you for it.”

And to be honest, that was the exact reaction he was hoping for. 

“To Loser/Lover,” Mike started, raising his glass. “May this album break all the records and bring the music industry to your feet.”

To which, they all cheered in agreement and raised their glasses. That night was perfect and they knew that it was the calm before the storm that Dr. K was bringing. 

However, it was the album release party that things got really good. Richie had been to wild events before thanks to Paper Boat, but this was on a whole different level. Stan had booked one of the best venues in the entire state and made sure that expense was no issue. 

Even if the album flopped they were going to celebrate all the hard work that went into it. There were food and drinks, and different celebrities coming up to congratulate Eddie. Some higher-ups were only there to show their support because Eddie was going to make them millions, though they were kind enough to cramp Richie’s style. 

And as a bonus, Beverly went out and got a karaoke machine as well as a band just for the hell of it. Everyone had their turn, going up on stage and singing their hearts out. Richie got dragged onto the dance floor by Beverly and Mike and of course Eddie himself. It felt good, being able to dance with his boyfriend and not care who was watching. 

But of course, Richie wouldn’t be well, Richie, if he didn’t find a way to annoy his boyfriend before the night was over. 

“All right, thank you, everybody. I know we are all here to celebrate the phenomenal career of Dr. K but before you all cream your jeans over his latest album, please be aware that he is not the only performer in this establishment. K...my love.” 

“Oh no,” Eddie muttered, his eyes wide when he realized what song was going to come on.

“This is dedicated to the love of my life...who in all honesty...fucking hates this song…. _There'll be no strings to bind your hands, not if my love can't bind your heart_ ….”

Eddie groaned aloud, hiding his face in his hands as Richie sang along to the first verse. It took everything in him to not burst out laughing right then and there. He paused, letting the music play on before singing again. 

“Some of you...must be wondering why our dear doctor is reacting this way. Well, the truth is...back when K and I were little queers in a quiet, dark town, this was the first song we ever made out to. And I stuck my tongue in his mouth for the very first time. And he’s still scarred to this day _JUST CALL ME ANGEL OF THE MORNING, ANGEL. JUST TOUCH MY CHEEK BEFORE YOU LEAVE ME, BABY!_ ” 

“Richard, I swear to god!” Eddie half laughed, half yelled at the man across the way. 

“Don’t worry darling...you don’t have to be afraid anymore...now I stick my tongue in another, less terrifying place. _JUST CALL ME ANGEL OF THE MORNING ANGEL!_ ” 

Richie was forced off stage after that, smiling brightly as he came face to face with his doting boyfriend. 

“I hate you,” Eddie told him, a loving smile crossed those red lips Richie found himself dreaming about even when he was awake.

“I know,” Richie replied, swooping down to kiss him, not giving a damn about anyone around them. 

Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie, holding him closely. “You know, Roger Taylor is in the corner there,” Eddie admitted, jutting his chin up towards the left corner. 

Richie’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “Baby don't do this to me,” Richie muttered, returning to look that way. 

“He’s right behind you.” 

“Ed’s.” 

“Wanna say hi?” 

“I’m gonna fucking cry,” 

Eddie just laughed aloud, taking Richie’s hand and pulling him in the direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more and then we're done. Come on. You've lasted this long. Tell us down below what you thought, how you feel. 
> 
> A reminder that you can follow Richie's Instagram account and see everything he posts about him and Dr. K @ the.richtozier


	20. Lights Up - Harry Styles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Harry Styles song that Eddie covers is SPECIFICALLY the slowed-down version that Harry performs on SNL. Please check it out if you haven't already.

**_Shine, step into the light_ **   
**_Shine, so bright sometimes_ **   
**_Shine, I'm not ever going back_ **

Oh, how time would fly. So intensely, so quickly. Blink, and you’ll miss it and Richie nearly did. It felt like everything in his life was moving at warp speed and he was trying his best to stay strong and not lose his grip. 

A year ago, he was alone. Single and working on shitty puff pieces for a magazine that was too good for him and now he was here, in a loving relationship, following the love of his life on his first solo tour. The love of his life being Eddie, the kid that used to haunt his nightmares and was now his living dream. 

He had been pretty anxious about the whole tour situation, but after a long talk with his therapist and of course Eddie himself, he was finally able to calm down and bring himself to a place that was okay. He would always be jealous, always worried that something would go wrong. That was being human. Being normal. Richie wasn’t used to being those things. 

It seemed like for so long he was just skitting along, doing whatever he could to go from day to day. He was surviving, not living. 

And now he was living every single day loving his life and being oh so very thankful for the changes that came his way. 

They figured it out to the best of their abilities. Richie couldn’t just drop everything to follow Eddie on tour. He had a career he had to focus on and now a cat that needed to be looked after. Sure, they had enough money to be able to afford someone to watch Hot Space and he had already decided on what he was going to write next, but still. 

It was hard because both had gotten used to sleeping in the same bed with someone and now for four months they’d be apart. Richie in his giant California King and Eddie on the tour bus and whatever hotel they’d be putting him up in. 

Both he and Eddie knew it was healthy to have some time apart. Space makes the heart long or some shit like that. It would suck, but he knew Eddie would be fine. And he would be fine too. 

He’d be there for all the California shows and then settled back at home while Eddie carried on the tour. The cities he’d be visiting him at were Chicago and New York, as Eddie had planned to spend several more days in both places so they could have something of a mini vacation. 

It sucked, only seeing him in three out of the forty cities he’d be touring to, but Richie had already decided that he’d join him on the European tour dates. Richie had never left the country and there were so many places Eddie talked about taking him. He had more than enough vacation days saved up for the occasion and what was a better topic to write about than being a male groupie? 

He planned on documenting it all, wanting the experience to be something that the people could enjoy and follow along as he went on the journey. 

“So this is what, your eighteenth time seeing him?” Beverly asked from where they were sitting. 

They didn’t have floor seats nor were they hidden backstage. They were in the box, with a perfect view of the whole performance. Eddie, of course, was as professional as ever and rocked the entire show.

The whole venue was sold out, which was both surprising and unsurprising. Eddie didn’t think so many tickets would sell, as it wasn’t a Trashmouth show, but rather just himself. Even despite being the voice of an amazing band, he still only saw himself as one single member of it. 

Richie had met a handful of the members of Trashmouth throughout his time with Eddie and it was obvious they were all very close. Richie had a hunch that the band would get back together in the future. Until then, he was proud to display his Dr. K merch. 

“Well technically, I’ve seen Trashmouth sixteen times and Dr. K only once on his own.” 

“Twice if you count the Bangoria Lounge,” Ben replied, returning to his seat and passing Beverly her drink. 

“I guess I’ll just have to keep showing up to beat my last record.” Richie teased, clinking his glass against Ben’s. 

He watched Eddie on stage, playing the chords on the guitar like it was second nature to him. The natural talent poured from his fingertips and put anyone questioning his abilities to shame. He ended the song and took his bow, tossing the guitar to the handler before walking out. 

“What do you think he’ll make them wait? Three minutes?” Beverly asked with a knowing smile. 

“Maybe five. I think he likes them to wait.” Ben suggested. 

All the lights turned off then and the floor opened up as the finale song, the encore, began to play. Eddie rose with just the mic stand wrapped around his hands as he slowly began to sing. Richie smiled from the balcony, watching his man give it his all and found that he couldn’t be prouder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this is it. The ending. We hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> We have thought of the possibility of continuing this. Is that something you'd like? Something you'd want? Please tell us down below. 
> 
> Also do not forget to follow Richie's Instagram (@the.realrichietozier). 
> 
> Happy reading!

**Author's Note:**

> All the lights couldn't put out the dark  
> Runnin' through my heart  
> Lights up and they know who you are  
> Know who you are  
> Do you know who you are?


End file.
